Edgedancer
by Kestrel Harper
Summary: For 10 years, she prepared. Now Kieran Herne, a human from Earth turned into an elven warrior, must race against time to find the heir to the Empire and restore him to the throne, else all of Tamriel – and Nirn – perish. CURRENT CHAPTER: LEYAWIIN MG
1. 0I: 3E423  Disorientation

**Summary:** An _Oblivion_ self-insert. What started as a normal school day somehow instead became a nightmarish reality. 17-year old Kimberlyn Harris must now learn to adjust to life as an elf and gain control of her incredibly wild magicka if she's going to survive and, ultimately, save Nirn.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mage's Guild quest/storyline.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that is _Elder Scrolls_ related – only Kimberlyn Harris, the events of Act 0 and any event of the main two storylines gone horribly out of control, any and all sorts of havoc that comes from it, the specifically-created-for-this-fanfic prophecies, the names of characters that ironically _weren't_ named in the plug-ins, and new characters created specifically for this fanfiction. JR owns himself and the events of _his_ fanfic series that's unlikely to be posted on this site. I also don't own anything that is _Diablo II_- or _Diablo _III-related and is specifically referenced as such (you'll see why later).

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 0 - "10 Years"  
**_**Chapter 0-1 - 3E423 - "Disorientation"**

**

* * *

**

Friday, May 28, 2010. It was a particularly warm May afternoon, as I recalled - then again, with June and the end of the school year coming up, I wasn't surprised; it was a much better change from the constant wind at the beginning of the month, too - but it was rare for me to even be outdoors at this hour. As usual, I was sitting in the same room as my math class two hours before, only on the opposite side of the room, second desk from the front in the farthest column of desks and as far from most other individuals as possible.

Note the word "most."

"So, you doing anything tomorrow?"

I looked up from my history homework (I _hated_ history sometimes) to the speaker, who I had also been talking with while doing said homework. At first glance, one couldn't necessarily tell that this person was _not_ someone you wanted to try and jump in a dark alley. If he weren't sitting down in the desk in front of me, he would've stood almost six feet tall (I estimated his height to be somewhere between 5'9" and 5'11"), a thin and lanky 18-year old with a thin face and curly brown hair. As usual, he was wearing a light jacket over a random T-shirt, along with faded blue jeans and a pair of somewhat worn sneakers. JR was a senior this year, although he lived with a friend's family after moving back from Tennessee.

The response I gave was that of a shrug as I closed my notebook; thank heaven for small miracles - I actually got it done. "Just playing _Oblivion_. Started a new game."

'_Again,_' I added mentally as an afterthought, zipping my black and dark blue backpack closed. Peering into the largest pouch of my backpack would've revealed even more items - a black binder, designated for Pre-IB Chemistry to counter my blue IB American History binder; a bunch of loose-leaf paper of miscellaneous assignments ranging from chemistry to English; and a clipboard with a humongous amount of blank computer paper...well, mostly blank. Looking in the back of the group would've revealed a number of half-anime, half-realistic drawings of mine. A good number of them were incomplete constructions - and likely to stay that way - but choice few others were fully colored figures with unusually complex designs on their clothing, and one page being nothing but eyes.

JR raised an eyebrow. "Again?"

Odd. I either was telepathically projecting again or he was reading my mind - he said it the exact same time I thought the word.

The older teen moved the sleeve of his left arm out of the way, checking his watch. He sighed, slightly annoyed, but mostly tired. "We'd better get going; there's only two minutes left for lunch."

Blink. Glance at the clock. 12:10. Annoyance crossed my face as I gave a small mock-pout. JR shrugged, getting up from his seat before swinging his own mostly-gray backpack over a single shoulder. "So, if it's alright, I'll see you tomorrow."

My response was that of a nod as I stood - my friends were always welcome at my house, so long as it wasn't a rehearsal weekend for the renaissance fair I was part of. I swung my backpack over both shoulders before the both of us left the classroom, venturing into the hallway filled with orange-colored lockers and other students traversing to their next classes. The sounds that remained constant as we made our way down the hall and took a left turn at the T intersection in front of the activities office were those of jingling chains and my headphones playing symphonic/progressive metal - "Ghost Opera" by _Kamelot_, specifically. Most of what little dialogue we exchanged at this point was simply about upcoming classes and our current feelings for them (I slightly envied JR here - he had computer technology whereas I had IB English) before we had to separate. JR vanished down the hall to the right as I passed through the double doors and out onto the campus of Kennewick High, heading for the building on the other side of the parking lot to my left: the annex.

Now that I was alone, I placed my headphones on my head before pulling down my aviation goggles, which doubled as a pair of sunglasses. I had a rather distinguishable appearance from the other students at Kennewick High - I was always in black Tripp pants with broken chains on the lower halves of the pants (which, fortunately, could be zipped off and converted into shorts) and a pair of black combat boots. My shirts were a matter of "find something clean that fits and throw it on" - in this case, my favorite black V-neck tank top, exposing my multiple pendants - one of a pewter dragon clutching onto a blue marble on a black cord that was adjusted to choker size, and a golden chain with a fire-opal pearl pendant. My dark-blonde hair, as usual, was pulled back into a simple ponytail behind me. Despite the fact I had pierced ears, I didn't wear earrings in them often - only during special occasions and performances or when I just wanted to scare people. As for my eyes? They were a bit large, but warm, with an unusually colored form of hazel eyes - bluish-gray primarily, with a ring of green surrounding the iris, but a bursting ring of yellow surrounded the pupil. "Starburst eyes," as one of my friends called them.

The bell rang promptly at 12:12; we had six minutes to get to class. I only needed two - I was already halfway from the middle of the school grounds to the front of the annex building, and it took me about a minute to head through the double doors, climb the stairs, turn right, and then head all the way down to the classroom on my left for fifth period. I took a deep breath before sighing - despite how I found it rather entertaining to read about an individual deteriorating into insanity, _Crime and Punishment_ was not quite catching my attention, and I had to write a compare-and-contrast essay involving it and either _Antigone_ or _The Stranger_.

Ah, well.

I placed my left hand in the (rather deep) pocket holding my MP3 player and tarot cards before passing through the doors and then climbing up the steps, grabbing onto the railways to keep myself balanced. My mind was focused on something other than a story taking place in St. Petersburg, Russia. As a 17-year old junior with attention deficit disorder and a frequent urge to write anything in her spare time (most of it coming out as fanfiction or brainstorming for a fanfiction in the works), it was going to be a bit hard for me to entirely concentrate, even with my medication.

* * *

2:25 that afternoon, I came home tired, irritated, and rather cold.

Try walking for fifteen minutes down six or seven blocks and then a giant field of grass that clearly too up a block and a half with 30 miles-per-hour winds blasting in your face.

...Okay, I was exaggerating a bit with the wind. Maybe. You never knew in the Tri-Cities - the only thing you could count on about the weather here was that it was really windy for a third of the year and some of those winds could get _really_ fast and _really_ annoying.

I had to pass through the garage before I entered the (rather dark) utility room that doubled as guest room and entertainment center. Near the door to the hallway of the downstairs of the house was a gray desk with a number of miscellaneous pieces of trash, crap, and dishes on it with a cordless phone, keyboard, and mouse visible in front of the flat-screen, black-colored monitor. Near that was a sort of web-cam on the left, and further to the left, a gray HP printer, also with junk on top of it. There was a walkway about six or so feet wide between the desk, the black rolling chair in front of it, and the bunk bed, the lower one currently a futon with a red sheet covering it. I threw my backpack on the futon before leaving the room and heading down the hall beyond to the room on the far end to the right - my room.

No confusing algebra. No English. No Chemistry. No _boring-me-to-sleep_ American History. No Journalism ad-hunting, either. Just a quiet weekend ahead, and, at the current moment, a warm shower (_man_, I stunk), and then lots of stress-relief via clicking mouse buttons to swing a sword or to snipe with a bow and arrow.

Besides, now that my little brother (whose room was right across the hall from mine) had his own copy, I didn't have to worry about him constantly bugging me to play the game in question on mine, which would then lead to fights, which would lead to getting Mom involved, which would lead to grounding both of us from the game. And since I couldn't play my PS2 games on the PS3 - not to mention that was Dad's room and he used said PS3 to watch his movies - _Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion_ was the best stress relief I could get right now after trying to bring my grades up from Fs to, at minimum, Cs.

By way of non-sequitur, I _hate_ being absent a lot.

* * *

To be honest, I had only JR to blame for introducing me (...and my little brother, the little Bug...) to _Oblivion_ in the first place. He brought it over sometime in January to test my computer's new graphics card, allowing me to borrow it and then just full-on letting me keep it. I had bought myself the expansion - _The Shivering Isles_ - and then the Game of the Year edition for my little brother. I had all of the official mods installed, along with a number of user-created mods that I found greatly enhanced the gameplay. (Oh, good gosh, the menus of the non-modded version were just _way_ too large...) However, I had only beaten the main quest of the original _Oblivion_ storyline twice - I _hated_ the way the developers decided to close it.

...Seriously, all that work to put Martin on the throne to stop the daedric invasion, and for what? Just to have him turn into a freakin' statue of a dragon?

Now, then. My hair was washed, I smelled like I just got back from some sort of tropical cruise, and I had changed back into my normal clothes due to certain individuals insisting I come with them for errands. (This resulted with the mantra of _"I love my mother. I __love__ my mother..."_ repeating over and over in my head for the first five minutes I was in the shower.) Well, we were leaving in an hour - I had enough time to work a bit more on my newly-started game. Hopefully enough time to get through the tutorial.

'Cause really, one gets bored of shooting rats and goblins with weak iron bows and arrows after a while.

* * *

For the second time that day, I came home rather tired, irritated, and cold.

_Errands_, my mother had said. Not _window shopping_. Alright, Mom didn't do that often, but when you drive all the way out to Richland _just_ to investigate the new yarns, you tended to get very bored very quickly. I was just _lucky_ that there was a bookstore nearby with manga I could browse for.

Sure, we got our grocery shopping done, after playing _courier_ for most of the friends of the family who needed stuff transported to everyone else's and their brother Fred's houses. It was dark by the time we got home, and I was _extremely_ tired. I didn't figure out why until after I had helped ferry groceries back into the house and then collapsed on my bed in my room. On the nearby shelf, in bright red LED lights, the time read 9:37. Technically it was 10 minutes fast, but I didn't care - I had a set schedule of going to bed at 10:00 P.M., and after running around the Tri-Cities all afternoon, turning in early for the night sounded like a very good idea.

I didn't bother changing out of my clothes. Or taking out my contact lenses. Or taking off my boots. Heck, I didn't even bother emptying my thigh-pockets of their huge arsenal of mechanical pencils and pens. I closed the door, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over me and closing my eyes. The week had been a tiring hell for me, and I needed all the sleep I could get...provided I didn't keep waking up in the middle of the night.

The last thing I thought of before drifting into peaceful sleep was, constantly thinking about how already-established stories could be twisted off-track, what happened should someone from the real world find themselves placed in the _Elder Scrolls_ universe - the realm of Mundus, itself.

* * *

Dreams, for me, tended to be rather rare.

Well, when you're constantly waking up in the middle of the night, you tend to not get any hint of REM sleep, and that's the phase that actually rejuvenates a person. However, the dream I had that night was so vivid, so lucid, I would've wondered if I _wasn't_ dreaming if I was awake. I saw a city - or, rather, the depiction of a city - in my hands, an illustration of a life of a time and place so distant that it was almost fantastical. I was floating in the midst of a sea of stars, of swirling clouds of cosmic dust and light and darkness. I could feel wind, water, heat, cold...it was as if all my senses were sharpened so much, they were superhuman.

A voice in the wind, prompting me to turn. I stood before a solitary tower, built as if from coral and marble, or as if one of those stylized Chinese calligraphy scenes (for lack of a better description) with a small bansai-esque tree visible from an outcropping, all silhouetted against not one, but two crescent moons, one much larger than the other and a reddish color, while the other appeared a sort of pale blue. I took a few steps forward and suddenly found myself flying through blurred hallways and past mere glimpses of rooms that would remain a mystery to me.

I flew out of the top of the tower to land on an outcropping at the top, where a giant arch, sparking with bright light and a thin veil of glowing blue substance rippled in the space between the ground and its edges. Before it stood a figure a few inches taller than I - a woman in black and dark blue robes with a hood covering her head. I took a few steps forward in awe - the arch appeared as if it were a cross between an Oblivion Gate and a town portal spell from _Diablo II_, and this figure stood calmly before it. She turned towards me, her face mostly shadowed. All I could see was a smooth, slender jaw, fair-sized red lips with a slight overbite, and a rather pointed chin.

She smiled, then beckoned me to come closer. Though hesitant, I did as she silently asked, approaching her side. She gave a small nod before turning back to the giant...gate. With a sweeping motion of her small, smooth, but strong hand, she commanded me to gaze further into the depths of the bright blue, glowing rift. I had to squint in order to see what she referred to.

There, in the middle of the rift where the glow was brightest, I could see a rather complex, ornate key of some sort. My eyes widened as I blinked once, then turned to the woman. She nodded once, slowly but deliberately. She knew what I would ask. My lips thinned as I turned back to the strange rift, taking slow, deliberate steps towards the fantastical vision before I was directly in front of it. Cautiously, I lifted my hand towards the key, taking it into hand. The glowing blue suddenly vanished, and once more I stood within an abyss of stars, even if it felt as if I stood upon a solid floor. I blinked once, surprised at the change of my surroundings as I looked around at the change of scenery before lowering my hand and turning my attention back to the key.

...or, what _had_ been a key.

Instead of a key, I realized that I held something else - an amulet. And not just any amulet. The jewel was a giant crimson diamond with the strangest cut I had ever seen, set in a casing of gold with eight other multi-colored stones - one per corner, and at the midpoint of each segment. This unusually light item was attached to a golden chain, and as I gazed into the jewel's depths, I saw, very faintly, the image of a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in gray-colored robes with a mess of mahogany-brown hair and pale blue eyes that held a sort of sealed greater insight.

_Danger. Be careful. The enemy comes closer._

My figure turned around to the image of a burning city of marble, the man in the amulet now standing before a ruined temple and the hooded woman from before standing before him. The man had now donned a different set of robes, now - a royal purple overcoat with fur cuffs and collar over a red set of robes with gold-thread embroidery in complicated designs. Held in his right hand was a silver shortsword with an ornate hilt, and a look of determination upon his face as he gazed past me at an unseen enemy standing above me.

The hooded woman from before had also donned another outfit – one strikingly similar to that of the female Wizard of _Diablo III_. She wore dark armor with a blue attachment on her upper chest that looked incredibly like a somewhat stiff and sleeveless Chinese blouse. On her right shoulder was a silver shoulder-guard that protected the entire shoulder in three segments, but there was something about the gauntlet in her right hand that seemed odd and incredibly familiar, as it appeared Dwermer in design. She wore a black overskirt attached to the armor, closed around her waist by a dark blue sash and black leather belt, along with another blue overskirt that looped around behind her. In her hands was a long staff with a strange curved blade at the end pointing to the ground - a glaive, I recognized, of a dark golden color and about six cylindrical-like "beads" attaching the blade to its large (and rather heavy) shaft, and another similar one connecting the shaft to the pointed tip of an end-point. Her head was down, her hood - a black and blue one matching her overcoat and bodice - kept up, and her face remained shadowed, but it was still the same woman from before.

Her head lifted. A gust of wind blew past me, sending my hair whipping around me and the duo's robe and coat(s) flapping behind them. The woman's hood was blown down to reveal her full face.

Satin blonde hair pulled back into a high braid, her bangs in a middle part and curving down to the base of her chin. Two long, pointed ears, slender and almost reaching the top of her head, poked out from behind them. Strange tribal-like markings were visible on the woman's brow, vaguely reminding me of a bird in flight. Her eyes were narrowed, a serious expression on her face.

My eyes.

I wasn't sure what I was seeing. I must've been playing _Oblivion_ too much - the man looked too much like Martin Septim, and this woman, she seemed so much like me and yet _not_...

A swift movement of her right hand, exposing her palm. A city in the hand.

The winds began to grow violent, and I found myself surrounded by cold flame. I had to shield my eyes from the brightness of the fire, from the ferocity of the gale-strength whirlwind that surrounded me.

And then all fell silent once again.

The light vanished.

I felt like I was floating...falling? I wasn't sure. My eyes opened. Stars. Rivers of stardust. Two moons, one larger and red compared to the normal-sized pale blue one. A sense of peace. Safety. I could rest.

My eyes closed, letting myself meld into the silent melody that only my ears could hear in this strange darkness - the calming lullaby of a life to begin anew.

Darkness and sleep were the last two sensations I felt.

* * *

_Let me see your hand._

_I see the City in the Hand, and the Hand in the stars.  
The Tower guards the Gate, but the Gate holds the Key.  
The King is the Key, and the Hand guards the King._

_

* * *

_

Cold. Very cold. I curled up into a ball, trying to pull the covers over my head, only to find there were none. There was no bed.

I sat up, my eyes snapping open as terror crashed down on me like a wave from a tropical storm.

Trees. A pile of leaves. Too many trees to be any park in Kennewick. And it was the dead of night.

I leapt to my feet, looking around in panicked fear. This had to be some sort of nightmare; I could only _hope_ it was some sort of nightmare...

"Over there! I heard something!"

Color drained from my face as these words reached my ears from a fair distance to my right. I didn't like the sound of it at all. Hastily zipping off the lower halves of my pants and stuffing them into my pockets, I began to slowly move away from the source of the voices before fully turning around and breaking out into a run.

The foreboding feeling in the back of my head never left.

Couldn't think. Couldn't look back. Couldn't stop running, had to keep running, hope for a miracle or wake up from this incredibly lucid nightmare. I didn't remember how I got there, but I knew that staying would've gotten me killed. Now, I might as well be near dead.

_You_ try dodging arrows being fired at you from behind _and_ maneuvering through unfamiliar and frelling dark territory where you're liable to run into lions and wolves and bears (oh my!) and boulders and trees. Especially trees. Last thing I needed while running from these crazies was to -

"AHHH! Oomph!"

...trip over roots.

I scrambled to my feet, shaking my head and ignoring the scrapes on my arms and legs, trying to find someplace to hide, or at least catch my breath. I could only run for so long - I was a long distance walker, sure, but I tended to _sprint_ when I ran. Had to hide now, though; had to stay hidden...

"Hello? Who's there?"

Oh, _dren._

"She was here just a second ago..."

I dove to the ground, commando-crawling to the small crevice made by a few boulders nearby and pressed my back to the rocks, trying to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible. I squeezed my eyes shut as I curled up into a ball, seeing faint light and hearing two sets of footsteps in the distance. Two voices spoke, both irritated. But the remark from the first really made me wonder what was going on.

"Damn! Clearly a slippery one, that s'wit..."

The other man said something. For a while, there was some arguing and footsteps around the area. With one last curse, the two decided to leave the grotto. Through my eyelids, I saw the light fade. As soon as I was certain they were gone, my eyes opened and I crawled out from my hiding spot, pale as a ghost and shaking.

The term "s'wit" was used by the Dunmer in the _Elder Scrolls_ series. And the light was too dim to have been flashlights; they were closer to actual fire-lit torches, especially from how I noticed flickering. I glanced about in terror. I wasn't sure if I was dreaming anymore. My head lifted skywards towards the heavens above.

None of the stars were in constellations I recognized. And last I checked, Earth had only one pale-white moon, _not two different-colored ones of different sizes._

Masser and Secunda.

Oh, I was _so_ frelled.

* * *

I didn't know how long I had wandered through the wilderness. I didn't even remember collapsing on the inside of a cold, mostly-destroyed fort of gray-colored stone. But when I realized where I was, and that they hadn't changed from the last time I glimpsed around, I could only come to the conclusion that no - I _wasn't_ dreaming. I was stuck in some ruined fort in what appeared to be the Blackwood County of the province of Cyrodiil on the continent of Tamriel on the planet of Nirn in the realm of Mundus. (...And that was me clearly ranting to specify my location.) I took a deep breath. If this _was_ Blackwood, if this _was_ Mundus, then I couldn't just stay in one place too long without adequate protection. Armor, a weapon. I needed to be able to defend myself, and I did _not_ trust my hand-to-hand skills, even if I was trained in stage combat.

As much as I hated the idea, I would have to go in deeper to try and find such equipment.

With a gulp, I crouched low to the ground, beginning to quickly move forward. The secret to sneaking (and I _really_ didn't want to risk it here) is not to be seen, after all. I began to venture through cold stone hallways, twisting almost every which way into areas separated from everything else - and normally I was good with my sense of direction. I avoided light sources as I best I could, as I saw plenty of torches lit throughout the halls. Most of the larger rooms I found were devoid, I noted, but there were chests...and there were weapon racks. I entered one specific room that appeared to be some sort of armory, with blades and bows made of iron and armor made of brown leather.

My lips thinned as I eyed the swords. The claymores were out of the question - they were too heavy for me and I had little knowledge of how to use them. Longswords and shortswords? I had a better chance with those, and the daggers I caught sight of. With reluctance, I grabbed one of each blade (sans claymores - two-handed weapons and I did _not_ mix), and also snagged a bow and quiver. I grabbed one of the sets of leather armor on a nearby table before changing, ignoring the iron greaves nearby. Heavy armor made more noise and I had worn a steel plate cuirass a couple of times before...for about five minutes.

Equipping myself entirely had taken longer than I intended - about an hour and a half. Trying to effectively keep everything in place with _my_ thin figure (I was around 110 pounds, really - my medications tended to kill my appetite) was a hassle.

...Eh? What was that over there?

I blinked, readjusting my gloves as I approached the table. For a brief moment, I stood stunned, wide-eyed, before an evil grin spread across my lips. The table had five or six long wooden poles about six to six and a half feet in length and about two inches thick. Nothing special about them, just long, straight wooden poles.

Not very intimidating, sure, but in the right hands, one of these weapons was enough to kill a normal human being when swung at full strength.

I snagged one of the poles, keeping it in my right hand as I snuck off into the fort, keeping it as level with the ground as I could.

The few rats I came across for the next few corridors were beaten to death by something clearly wooden, judging from the number of splinters in their fur.

* * *

As I continued on down the corridors, I tried to stay out of sight of the shadowed figures - some of them normal humans, others more elven in appearance - and any that came too close were promptly beaten to death first with a whack upside the head and then a few additional blows to the sides and front. I had grimaced at the sight of the first human(oid) life I had taken soon after gathering the armor and weapons I now used. I had a bad feeling I was going to need to get used to it. This wasn't Earth, after all.

This was Nirn.

And I, Kimberlyn Harris, was stuck in southern Cyrodiil with absolutely no idea how to get home.

...I was _screwed._

_

* * *

_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yes - that _is_ Dagail's little cryptic message when you talk to her about Leyawiin. You'll most likely see it later - a _lot_ later.

I've been debating putting this up here for months. Once again, however, I go out on a whim and post it up anyway. I intend for Act 0 to last about 10 or so chapters (don't worry – most of them are a _lot_ shorter than this one) before Act 1 starts with the official Main Quest of _Oblivion_. This story will contain quite a number of pop-culture references and a _lot_ of references to the previous games in the series, most especially _Morrowind._

Buckle up, ladies and gentlemen. The madwoman has taken the wheel and she's cackling in a demented but maniacal manner.

This place is heading _straight_ for the Shivering Isles.

- _Kestrel Harper_


	2. 0II: 3E424 Reflection

**Summary:** An _Oblivion_ self-insert. What started as a normal school day somehow instead became a nightmarish reality. 17-year old Kimberlyn Harris must now learn to adjust to life as an elf and gain control of her incredibly wild magicka if she's going to survive and, ultimately, save Nirn.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mage's Guild quest/storyline.

**Disclaimer:** If I _did_ own _The Elder Scrolls_, why would I be writing _fan_fiction? Please see Chapter 0-1 for a formal disclaimer, because I'm _not_ putting it up again.

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 0 - "10 Years"  
**_**Chapter 0-2 - 3E424 - "Reflection"**

19th of First Seed. Almost a full year ago, I had arrived in Nirn with no idea how I got there, let alone where I was. It had taken a few days for me to find my way out of the ruined fort with the items I had taken and find any sort of crossroads. Soon after that, I traveled north, intending to reach the town of Cheydinhal to try and locate any sort of _map_ I could take with me and actually figure out my location.

But that was _before_ I saw my reflection in the Panther River.

Most of my physical appearance hadn't changed, save for a lot of dirt and scratches from trying to navigate and survive in the wilderness, but I remembered quite clearly three days after escaping what I would later discover to be the ruins of Fort Cuptor that I was no longer human now that I was in Nirn.

When I saw my appearance, I realized I looked a lot like a much younger version of the woman from my dream. Smooth skin, pointed chin, tribal tattoo-like markings on my face (and my chest, and my back, and my outer arms and legs), thin but athletic build... The wooden pole, now officially my quarterstaff and the main weapon I used in the wilderness, had been a lifesaver by helping me keep my balance and not fall into the river. I was suddenly very glad that I had snagged the black hood from one of the bandits in the fort, which I quickly donned - no elf of any race had ears similar to mine, as theirs were generally larger, plumper, and shorter.

I quickly determined after that incident that the fewer people who knew of my existence, the better.

By the time I had gotten a hold of a calendar and a map, I had been wandering eastern Cyrodiil for almost two weeks. I had arrived on the 28th of Second Seed in the year of Akatosh 423, I calculated. I had to filch a bunch of abandoned parchment in order to keep myself on track with the date, the holidays, and my current situation...to the point that I had a _makeshift diary_ stuffed in one of my side-pouches. I had retired my normal Earth-clothes to my pack until I could find a suitable location for a personal home, but I had kept pencils and pens on me at all times. Sure, every now and then I used a quill and ink, but that was incredibly rare and I _hated_ using them. Always a matter of trying to make sure I had enough ink, that my quill-tip was sharp, and even the slightest mistake meant I had to scratch out that word and rewrite it. Drawings were pencil-only because of this. I had some pretty interesting sketches of the Ayleid ruins I had come across, to be honest, and I had also made little marks on my recovered map of Cyrodiil concerning their locations.

Come the end of Mid-Year (June in our normal calendar on Earth), I had established a routine: travel only at night, keep close to the Niben (as I was going North, that meant keep close to the Bay and the Upper Niben), fight in close-combat only when necessary. If I determined an abandoned camp a good place to stay for a few nights, then I would practice archery with the nearby wildlife as target practice. Besides, I needed to keep myself fed, and one could only get so far with rabbit stew. I actually got pretty far with this routine - all the way from the Mouth of the Panther to the Ayleid Ruin of Culotte in a week, which had actually been early Mid-Year. (Hah - sounds a bit oxymoronic, that.) Near the middle of the month, I crossed the long bridge leading to Fort Alessia and Sweetwater Camp and began to travel around the lower half of Lake Rumare in a clockwise direction. My reason: three or so bridges away was a special landmark I wanted to make certain was on my map, and a focus point for me to return to and rest up if necessary.

And believe me, the first time you see a Doomstone up close and personal, you _never_ forget the sight. Especially a Birthsign Stone.

I reached the Tower Birthsign Stone a few hours before dawn on the 16th of Mid-Year, the Mid-Year Celebration across Tamriel. The red markings upon the central stone glowed faintly in the starlight, and standing within the circle of smaller stones surrounding it, I felt something strange...something _powerful._ Like I would never be harmed within its circle. Beyond the stone, and across what I could see of Lake Rumare, I could see quite clearly the circular walls of the Imperial City on the island in the lake's center, and a large, impressive bridge even further in the distance. Closest to me was the Waterfront District, where the ships tended to dock if they were bringing goods to the center of the Empire. Further up on the island's height would have been the Temple District. Directly north and a bit to the east from the eastern shore of the small peninsula of land the Tower Stone was on, I could see into the run-down housing area that doubled as the congregation grounds for the infamous Thieves Guild.

Why the Tower Stone? While the view was definitely worth it, it wasn't the reason I wanted to find it first. The Tower was the birthsign of Frostfall - October back at home. I was born almost exactly halfway into October (I was a day early to be exactly halfway), therefore making my birth-month Frostfall. Therefore, the Tower was my birthsign here in Nirn. In the normal game, the Tower was...well, I had to admit, the powers of the Tower sign were a bit on the wimpy side. A greater power of only 5% reflect damage for two minutes and another greater power of opening a single average lock you focused on? Not very helpful, to be honest.

For that entire holiday, I had stayed near the Tower Stone. I couldn't sleep that day, either, especially when I saw dawn break over the horizon. I _had_ to draw the scene in front of me. The only regret I had was that I didn't know how to paint, and even if I did, I didn't have the supplies to do the scene any justice. The few pedestrians along the roads throughout the day were more or less ignored, and they gave me the courtesy of the same as I worked on my picture. I placed the drawing in the middle of the makeshift diary I had created, soon after the entry for the corresponding day. The sight of the Tower Stone at dusk, however, was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen that year. (And possibly a few years afterwards.)

The next few months (Sun's Height, Last Seed, and Hearthfire, or July, August, and September) were spent wandering around the Great Forest surrounding Lake Rumare, although mostly it was me just running around in circles. I stayed as far away from the Ayleid ruin as possible - I was _not_ going into any ancient city that was four times out of five going to be filled with _undead._ The few conjurers and mages I came across in the woods that tried to attack me and summoned them learned very quickly that unless they want to die _faster_, you do _not_ summon zombies or skeletons in front of me. Scamps? I was fine with scamps. Scamps up close were _really_ ugly, but with the undead, you had to deal with not only the sight of missing limbs and bone-chilling groans (or the really annoying loud creaking), but also with the _smell of rotting flesh_ in the case of the _frelling zombies._

Rumors went around after these incidents that there was some sort of madman on the loose mauling mages that attacked it. The descriptions of some of the bodies made me wonder if I had briefly stepped into Hinamizawa from _Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni_ whenever I found myself facing the undead and the idiots who summoned them in front of me. (...Most of these incidents were in front of Yellow Tic Cave, to be specific.)

As the 15th of Frostfire neared, I began to trek back to the Tower Stone as a sort of birthday celebration. By that time, I had been stuck on Nirn for five and a half months, give or take a couple of days. I was amazed to find that I still remembered the names of everywhere I had reached multiple times in the game before...let alone my homeworld, my friends, my family, and precisely how much I had missed during that time. The end of June had been when I was supposed to attend the renaissance fair. The beginning of August was SpoCon. Late August would've been the start of my senior year of high school. That day had been spent on that small peninsula in silence (as I normally spent my days now), remembering the life I once had.

Ironic, how my 18th birthday had also been the quietest one I ever had.

The rest of the year was _really_ interesting - I had managed to gather enough warm clothing to even try and trek up the Jerall Mountains towards Bruma later that month, and I spent Sun's Dusk, Evening Star, Morning Star, and Sun's Dawn exploring those mountains, clearing out caves and bandit camps and hiking up the highest mountain I could find _without_ coming close to Hermaeus Mora's shrine (the mere _thought_ of the Daedric Prince of Knowledge gave me shivers even on the warmest of nights) and how to improvise skiing down the snow with only two planks of wood and no way to keep my boots on them. _That_ had caused a rather amusing incident mid-Evening Star with the Bruma Guard...

Never thought I'd run so fast in the snow in my _life_ that day, to be honest. Though I was utterly terrified at the time, I looked back on the memory of a huge heap of Bruma guards and my makeshift skis in a giant pile of snow and bodies with a great amount of amusement. Hopefully, they'd forget about it in a few years. And I did not leave my camp near Cheydinhal come the 16th of Sun's Dawn - Heart's Day was their equivalent of Valentine's Day, and as a single girl who had only dated once in her life, I was _very_ bitter from the 14th through the 18th that month.

However, that was now the past. In two days time, I recalled, it would be Hogithum - the summoning day of the Daedric Prince of the Dawn and the Dusk, Azura. Upon remembering this, my lips thinned as I gazed out of my perch in one of the inland trees towards the eastern half of the Imperial City, staring directly at the Arena district beyond that channel of Lake Rumare. The religions here were polytheistic - the Nine Divines, the 16 Daedric Princes, Sithis and the Night Mother - whereas I grew up a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. (I kid you not - I was born into the church and I lived by its doctrine, but I took after my mom concerning it: it was definitely an extrovert's religion, which me and Mom _aren't._) While trying to survive here in this strange world, I had not once thought of religion prior to this day.

With how much I tried to avoid talking about religion and politics with _anyone_ (unless it was History, where not talking about politics was just as educational as watching grass grow), this wasn't surprising.

Biting my tongue, I reached into my pack before withdrawing a book: _Varieties of Faith in the Empire_ by Brother Mikhael Karkuxor of the Imperial College. I was amazed to have found it and a few other similar books in one of the bandit camps I had cleared out, and had kept them for reading material for when I just couldn't sleep. (How everything was written/spoken in English while technically being considered "Cyrodiilic" was beyond me.) The entire book had a guide to the different deities of the different pantheons of the Empire in alphabetical order. What annoyed me about the book was how some of the gods had rather limited information on them, such as Jode and Jone (the alternate names of the moons Masser and Secunda, respectively).

Knowing this information, it couldn't help but bug the question: how to keep to my own religion - the religion I grew up with and had been part of since I was born - when the events surrounding the teachings of that church didn't exist in this world? And if I couldn't (which was a bit unnerving), what pantheon and/or singular god/Daedric Prince did I relate most with?

I stared at the open book before me, attempting to read a bit before sighing, shoving it back in my pack. This was one of the rare times I spoke out loud, and even then it was normally just to myself. "Why does the universe have to make everything so _complicated_ when it comes to this subject?"

...Really, why?

Sitting up, I hopped down from the tree limb I had been sitting on to the lower branches that could support me and then landed on the ground with a small flip. Strange how my new elven form had these natural instincts and talents for acrobatics and gymnastics - I wouldn't have been able to get away with such a maneuver back at home.

Back at the ranch: it really did bug me, to be honest. Back at home, we had a humongous number of religions, with most of them being monotheistic. Christianity was split into Catholic (and subsets, if I recalled correctly) and Protestant (which had a _humongous_ number of branches)...and Mormonism, if I really wanted to argue, but I always thought of it as a given. Islam worshiped the same god, though they followed a different prophet, but the core teachings were the same. And yet the frelling "War on Terror" started because of radical Islamists trying to convert the entire world to Islam...in _precisely the wrong way._

You don't convert people through violence or constantly thrusting your holy book into their faces. Eventually, it leads to stereotyping, and stereotyping is the first sign of fuzzy thinking.

"Like how all daedric worshipers are bloodthirsty psychopaths...which they _aren't_," I mumbled aloud as I finished my thought, recalling that stereotype. It was true - the Mythic Dawn, in less than ten years time, would be incredibly violent and be more than willing to shed blood, and they were worshipers of Mehrunes Dagon. The Azura coven in the Jerals? Completely different story. Heck, Azura was one of the Daedric Princes I respected because of her actual concern for her followers.

...And then you got to the subject of the Dark Brotherhood and their worship of Sithis, but I wasn't going to even _touch_ that one.

I glanced about the area. It was getting late - dawn would come quickly and I preferred the cover of darkness. Besides, since I had taken a rather large interest in the astrology and astronomy of this universe, I would need all the time to study the stars above as best I could.

...Come to think of it, if the other planets were different planes of Oblivion, did that mean the Daedra and the original Eight Divines were aliens?

* * *

Halfway to Cheydinhal, a revelation struck me that was completely unrelated to the thoughts I had earlier concerning religion.

To the east, beyond the Valus Mountains that separated Cyrodiil from it, was the province of Morrowind.

When, precisely, were the events of the game of the same name - otherwise known as _Elder Scrolls III_ - supposed to begin?

My eyes narrowed as I racked my memories. I had looked this up before back at home, at the Imperial Library. I dropped my pack, deciding the nearby glade to be a good enough site for camp as this question plagued me. The events of _Morrowind_ and its expansions, _Bloodmoon_ and _Tribunal_, were actually important concerning the history of the Empire, and there was something about it that was just _nagging_ at me.

JR had mentioned sometime back that the events of _Morrowind_ had taken place anywhere between five and 15 years before the start of _Oblivion._ I remembered confirming it after looking it up in the Imperial Library online, but just what was the date? It was between five and 10 years, I remembered that much...

The realization hit me. I remembered how I...well, _remembered_ the estimated starting date. As the only events of particular importance that I had paid much attention to were in the fourth century of the Third Era, I had ignored the "3E4" part of the date, concentrating on the final two numbers as a sort of stand-alone figure. It was a divisible of nine.

3E427.

Once more, I blinked, and then rushed to my pack, digging through the (rather large) number of parchments that made up my makeshift journal to check the date of the first entry.

10th of Sun's Height, 3E423. The Merchants' Festival, I recalled - one of the few times I willingly entered one of the cities (I remembered it being Bravil, actually) to get rid of unwanted equipment, possibly upgrade what I had (which wasn't possible - the Archer's Paradox held little in terms of armor), and repair whatever else I had decided to keep. It had actually been my other source of parchment, although I had to wonder if I was writing a book when I walked out of The Fair Deal.

I shook my head - _focus_, Kimberlyn, _focus!_ Just because you're attention deficit doesn't mean you shouldn't concentrate on figuring this out! - before returning back to the task at hand. Now I remembered the year: 3E424.

424?

...Ah, _frell._

"Great," I growled in annoyance. "If all hell breaks loose first, I've got a chance of winding up in _Morrowind_."

And since I never played that game, I was sure as hell _not_ going to live long in there.

...I could only pray to whichever of the Nine Divines or Daedric Princes that now decided to favor me that such a happening would _not_ happen to me anytime soon. ...Even if I _did_ have a basic understanding of what needed to be done on the Neravarine's part.

For some reason, I also sent a small prayer that whoever _did_ turn out to be the Neravarine would have enough intelligence to get through it all alive.

_

* * *

_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** No, she's not going to Morrowind… …_yet._

Yes, it's rather short, but I'm satisfied with it. It touches on precisely what I was thinking if you took an honest real-world person who has religion (even if she's not very religious herself) and placed them in a world where that religion simply doesn't exist. Most of Earth is monotheistic, whereas the _Elder Scrolls_ universe is definitely polytheistic. It's a bit unsettling, especially when you're a fish out of water. And the question about the Nine and the Daedra really being aliens always _did_ bother me. I mean...really, does it?

I based this version of elf somewhat on the Mystic Elf from the Ren's Beauty Pack mod for the PC. Yes, it has tattoos, but they're not quite the same; you'll see why later.

_Higurashi_ references will be many, I can tell you that right now. Expect them in later chapters. If that doesn't emphasize going to the Shivering Isles in a handbasket, I don't know what does.

_-_ _Kestrel Harper  
_


	3. 0III: 3E425 Shrine

**Summary:** An _Oblivion_ self-insert. What started as a normal school day somehow instead became a nightmarish reality. 17-year old Kimberlyn Harris must now learn to adjust to life as an elf and gain control of her incredibly wild magicka if she's going to survive and, ultimately, save Nirn.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mage's Guild quest/storyline. Heavy spoilers for a certain Daedric Shrine quest, as well.

**Disclaimer:** *holds up sign reading "- Official Disclaimer – two chapters back"*

**KEY:**

_Text like this_ (centered)_:_ Writing of some sort  
_Text like this_ (not centered) in the midst of other sentences: book/movie/television/band titles, telepathic messages/statements, or emphasis  
'_Text like THIS_' (please note the single quotes): Thinking; underlined words are emphasized  
**"Text like this":** Disembodied voice speaking

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 0 - "Ten Years"  
**_**Chapter 0-3 - 3E425 - "Shrine"**

**

* * *

**

Fourth of Sun's Height, Cheydinhal county, Lake Arrius.

I had been stuck on Nirn...for _three. Frelling. Years._

And I had a nasty feeling I would be for a _very_ long time. On top of it all, I had a strange and foreboding feeling that simply gave me the creeps.

...What was I doing again? Oh, yeah...

_Middas, 4th of Sun's Height, 3E425_

_Time - 5:31 AM_

_Location: Lake Arrius, County Cheydinhal_

_How is it no one's managed to kill me yet?_

_Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but really, how! I've lost count how many times I thought I cleared out some ruined fort or cave, only to get lost, set off Divines know how many traps, knock over (and very loudly break, more often than not) pottery or rotted weapon stands, and find a large number of enemies I didn't notice on the initial clear-out, and yet I still manage to emerge from the depths of wherever unscathed. Either I'm some Daedric Prince's favorite chew-toy (if the case, I suspect Sheogorath) or I have an insanely (hah-hah) high luck score, because even with the ability to more or less snipe any target outside, in the dark, at 50 to 100 yards away, I still can't see things directly n front of me for my life._

_On a related note, it's amazing, too, how I haven't been bitten by any snakes yet. And I sincerely hope it stays that way._

Annoyance crossed my face as I noticed that the latter half of the second paragraph was beginning to fade out. With annoyance, I dipped the quill-pen into the open inkwell next to me, then presumed writing. I _really_ hated writing with quills. The only reason I did was just in case I wound up signing any important papers or anything like that (and it was going to happen sooner or later, I just knew it).

_I'm __seriously__ pushing my luck by just __being__ here. The reason?_

_I'm sitting on the boulder right above the door to Lake Arrius Caverns. In other words, __I'm right above the Mythic Dawn's heads._

I had no sooner finished the sentence when I heard the aforementioned door open. I immediately moved quickly and quietly so that I was lying on my front to decrease my chances of being seen. Two robed, hooded Mythic Dawn members emerged from the cavern, both speaking loudly enough for me to hear. The first speaker was female, and most likely a higher-ranked member from the way she spoke.

"Whoever the idiot is, he'll never find the Cavern of the Incarnate, no matter what the people think about him. And even if he does, _and_ even if he manages to find Moon-and-Star, he'll be incinerated as soon as he puts it on."

From her accent, she seemed to be a Dunmer, and most likely from Morrowind (or at least a frequent visitor to it) if she knew about the Cavern. This conversation was suddenly a gold mine of information about the current happenings. I had to agree, however, that whoever was trying to find the Cavern was likely a False Incarnate - the events of _Morrowind_ didn't start for another two years. Her companion - a male and also Dunmer from the sound of it - immediately responded, a slight tinge of concern in his voice.

"And at if it doesn't? What if this snow-skinned elf truly _is_ the Nerevar reborn?"

"He isn't. If anyone would be the Neravarine, it would be one of our own people, not the elven child of some Nord barbarian. Even so, we have our orders. Morrowind, especially Vardenfell, has more troubles than ever and this elf is heavily involved...or, perhaps, even the center of all this. If the stories of his power and martial prowess are true, he could be either an incredibly dangerous enemy...or a powerful and most certainly invaluable ally to the Mythic Dawn."

"I know. But we _must_ be careful. One wrong move, one wrong word, and this 'Aodh' person will likely kill us. And if _he_ doesn't kill us, the ashstorms most certainly _will_."

I blinked. That was _not_ an elven name at all, and I knew it. (Unless there was some other race I didn't know about, which was rather unlikely.) That was an ancient Gaelic word, translated as "fire" in English. The closest Nirn-originated names to the British Isles (if these people instead lived on Earth and speaking geographically) would have been the Bretons with their notably _French_-sounding names. (Seriously, how does _that_ work?)

Wait a sec. My eyes widened. '_That would mean...!_'

"We'd best hurry, then. I'd like to reach the border of Morrowind before nightfall, and the only way to do that is to _shut up_ and start moving."

The male Dunmer sighed. "As you wish, Sister."

Nothing else was said as they began to hike around Lake Arrius and then turn to the south-east, intending to pass through the Valus Mountains to Morrowind. They didn't look back, let alone realize I had been watching the whole time.

As soon as they were out of sight, I quickly sat up, withdrawing the pocket-watch I had found on one of my expeditions through a bandit-filled fort somewhere in Blackwood. I was bewildered they actually _existed_ here in Nirn, but then again, I _really_ had to wonder how you were able to check time just by opening your journal in the game. I quickly grabbed my quill and inkwell, re-inking said quill before adding on to my recent entry.

_Time - 5:49 AM_

_Houston? We have a problem._

_

* * *

_

The decision had been a reluctant one, but it was the only idea I had. The Mythic Dawn were on the move with intent to either kill, or, even worse, _recruit_ the potential Neravarine into their ranks. Trekking north through the Valus and up into the Jeralls took almost the entire day. It was almost nine that evening when I arrived at my destination, and the sun was almost entirely over the western horizon.

Well, at least the days got longer in summer and shorter in winter here, too, at least.

Even as I approached the certain location just above the tree-line of the Jeralls, I was uneasy. My little philosophical self-query from just over a year ago had come back with a metal baseball bat and reenacted the _Onikakushi-hen_ (translation: "Spirited Away by the Demon Chapter") arc of _Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni..._only with _me_ instead of Rena and Mion receiving Keiichi's blows.

(...And that was purely metaphoric - being sent back in time, across the Pacific Ocean, and then stuck repeating time for the same month over and over again? I was likely to be _really_ nuts by the time _that_ was over. Besides, I was still standing and the surrounding area did not look like I had gotten killed and was overdrawn at the blood bank.)

I was shaking so much, I knew I wouldn't be able to shoot straight if trouble came, meaning I would have to resort to either close combat or attempting to run to Bruma. (...Presuming the guards had forgotten the improvised-skiing incident.)

Frell, I didn't think this was even going to _work._ But it was the only idea I could think of that would keep my presence and identity on Nirn a secret.

I withdrew a small pouch from my hip. Through the small opening (despite being technically closed), one could see a dim, yellow-ish glow coming from the inside. Held in this pouch was the required offering I would need to present.

Hopefully, the Queen of the Night Sky would let me speak to her and _not_ send me to the Gutted Mine.

...Hopefully.

Gripping the pouch with both hands near my chest, I hesitantly approached the congregation of one male Dunmer Nightblade serving as caretaker and two worshipers, a male Dunmer Priest and a female Argonian Conjurer. They were gathered beneath a giant, brilliantly carved image in somewhat cracked marble upon an also-marble altar/pillar...an image that made me look upon it in awe of its beauty and symbolism to these people, but also a great uncertainty as to what I was about to attempt.

The figure appeared as an elven female, most likely Dunmer, wrapped in a sleeveless cloth fashioned as a dress. Her hair was long and straight, and at the hairline was a crown of roses. Save for this crown, the only other jewelry she wore was that of a bracelet on her left wrist. Her face was a stern one, yet hid not a sort of quiet tranquility that one would expect only from the twilit hour. Held in her hands, her arms bent slightly and out to either side in front of her, were two very familiar symbols to any who saw them. Held in her right hand, towards the west, was a thick disk with curving prongs around the edge, as if mimicking flames or light being cast in all directions at once - a sun. Towards the east, resting in her left hand, was something that could only be compared to the slice of an orange with pointed edges and a deeper inner curve - a crescent moon.

Nervously, I glanced towards the western horizon. It was a matter of minutes until the appointed time. I took a deep breath and cautiously approached at a quick pace, biting my lip nervously.

Don't make eye-contact. Ignore her worshipers for the moment; you know what you're doing. Don't even _look_ at them...

"You have entered a holy place. What is your business here, traveler?"

...and hope they don't talk to you.

Here I was, a 19-year old elf of some kind not recognized in Tamriel, terrified of interaction with anyone else around her, let alone praying to a Daedric Prince.

I slowly turned to the Dunmer Nightblade, my hands incredibly shaky now. It was almost comically ironic - I had become used to killing humanoids such as Bretons or Khajiit in my adventures, but they were bandits, marauders, highwaymen...definitely not friendly. But these people - these two Dunmer and the lone Argonian - had done no wrong, nor had they the intent to do so. They were peaceful worshipers of Azura, not extremists devoted to other Daedric Princes such as Mehrunes Dagon (see: _Mythic Dawn_).

"I... I wish to p-pray, t-to speak to the Lady Azura," I answered truthfully. Even my _voice_ was shaking - was I really _that_ scared?

The shrine caretaker studied me with a suspicious look. My already-low self-confidence plummeted like a stone thrown off the highest cliff in the Jeralls. '_Oh please, don't make me lower my hood, __please don't make me lower my hood__, by Azura, __please__...!_'

Cold... Why was I suddenly so cold...?

Words, voiceless but spoken, soundless but heard.

_Let her approach. I have expected her arrival for some time._

The Nightblade's eyes widened, turning towards the statue of the Daedric Prince (err...Princ_ess?_) the three already here worshipped. Similar expressions were on the faces of the Dunmer Priest and the Argonian Conjurer, who both held clear surprise, looking at the statue of Azura, then to me, and then back to the statue again. I wasn't sure what to really think at this point.

What I heard..._wasn't_ a hallucination? The voices I occasionally heard over the months I had been here were _not_ just figments of my imagination!

Silence. It felt like an eternity in a few agonizing seconds. My heart raced, my mind beginning to think almost in double-time. Azura had been _expecting me!_ Of course she was expecting me; she was a Daedric Prince, after all. But I wasn't even from Nirn, let alone _Mundus_, so how would she know I was here! She probably even knew who I was, _what_ I was...

I saw the caretaker nod once to the shrine-statue before turning to me. "Azura has spoken. Approach her shrine, cloaked stranger, presuming you have Glow Dust to offer her. She will accept nothing else."

My voice was mute from the sheer terror, so all I could reply with was a nod of my own. I slowly approached the statue's base, opening the pouch. I poured into my hand the source of the glow inside - the yellowish glowing dust meant for an offering. I poured the soft grain-like substance on the shrine-statue's base, following the curved edge and hoping none spilled.

Not many who follow me use such care and reverence with their offerings.

And a voice actually spoke as if coming from the shrine-statue. Female, definitely an alto, probably mezzo-soprano in range. There was a strange, almost ethereal echo in her voice as well...one that had me rooted to the spot.

**"I have seen your name, Traveler, and heard it whispered in twilight."**

My lips thinned. '_Oh, please let this be her standard greeting and not what I think it is..._'

**"I ask a service, which holds promise of fame and reward."**

What little hope I had now flew away as quickly as it possibly could when I heard those words. A grim look crossed my face. '_It's what I think it is._'

**"Many years ago, five followers slew the vampire Dratik and its kin...but all were infected by the foul creature."**

If I hadn't felt as if I had been utterly frozen to the spot, I would have hung my head. I knew this entire speech like the back of my own hand, but it offered very little comfort. '_It's __definitely__ what I think it is._'

**"Knowing their fate, they sealed themselves up in the vampire's lair. Their suffering weighs heavily upon me.**

**"Travel to the Gutted Mine. The door will open to you. Bring the peace of death to my followers, and you shall earn my gratitude."**

**

* * *

**

An hour's hike later brought me to the mine's entrance. Approaching the shrine had been a nerve-wracking experience, sure, but this? This was absolutely _terrifying_. I _did not_ venture into vampire lairs for a _reason_, dammit!

Chilling winds did not help my mood, either. And it was the frelling middle of Sun's Height, too, so why the hell did I feel like an ice-cube!

With a deep breath, I approached the wooden door leading to the cave's interior, sealed by what sent every possible "paranormal sense" I had developed over the months absolutely haywire. This was incredibly _powerful_ magic, and the fact that I could sense it was rather unnerving.

Hopefully, this would _not_ become a real-life _Chill_ campaign in which the critical success on the Improved Sense Unknown roll will cause a nasty headache and an epileptic seizure.

Nervously, now more than ever before in my entire 19 years of living, I took hold of the door handle and lifted the latch.

The seal was dispelled in an instant as I quietly entered, remaining as low to the ground and as hidden in shadow as possible, keeping on my toes. It was as if being hidden in the darkness utterly erased my fear and unease about my new task. I therefore withdrew my new bow, a red one in the shape of hunter's bows from _Diablo II_, which I had found in another monster-infested cave a few days prior. (_Spriggans._ "Nature's guardians, my _boot_," indeed...) It was definitely unusual, but what ghosts I had come across were definitely hurt by the thing, therefore making it a better weapon than iron or steel bows. As for why? I hadn't a clue. But the undead _really_ didn't like it.

My eyes narrowed. Everything was just getting colder and colder with me, and if I had a cold, shouldn't my nose be running by now? It wasn't adding up at all.

"I have a bad feeling about this..." I mumbled, cautiously moving forward at a quick pace.

* * *

I _hate_ swinging mace traps. I hate, _hate, __**hate**_ them _**all**_.

* * *

Alright. Review.

Five targets, all vampires - two Orcs (one male and one female), one female Altmer (oi vey, this wasn't gonna end well...), one female Nord (_do not get in close combat with!_), and one female Imperial Monk (yay, I'm gonna be beaten to a pulp by her fists alone). ...Why was it that there was only one guy in here?

Urgh - doesn't matter. Focus, Kimberlyn, focus!

Alright. Gutted Mine. Three targets are already in the same area as I am. The other two (the male Orc for certain) were hidden behind a moveable rock wall. Now that I had managed to make it past the tripwire swinging mace trap, I was nearing the first full room of the mine.

I didn't expect a sudden dizzy spell that nearly caused me to loudly collapse on the floor. I managed to catch myself in time, allowing me to keep my current position hidden, but why had I suddenly gone blind...!

Light. Little clouds of light. Purplish-white color, but not quite lavender. And...person-shaped. And I could see another kind of like it. And another. And two more.

...How did I get a hold of a long-range Detect Life spell? More importantly, _how the frell did I activate it!_

My eyes narrowed. Don't look gift horses in the mouth; who knows how much time you got? I really didn't want to chance it, especially here.

I took an arrow into hand and placed it so that I would be ready to draw it back and then fire quickly, peering around the corner. Just the Altmer - how'd _that_ happen? I raised my bow so that it was horizontally in front of me, not vertically like one would expect most archers to hold them. I was _sneaking around_, after all, but I would think about the differences of visibility with both positions differed _later._

Back was turned. My vision zoomed in as if I were looking through a sniper-scope...complete with (barely visible) crosshairs. I wanted to make sure the vamp died and _stayed dead_, but why, _why_ did the frost spells and enchantments in _Oblivion_ have to be so frelling _useless!_ I preferred _Diablo II_'s cold attacks much more - a percent chance of shattering into ice to prevent resurrection of minions...or certain types of undead from getting knocked down then getting up again after you've already killed them once. I hated the constant resurrection of Horrors and Burning Dead via Horadrim Greater Mummies in Act II, and I _really _hated the _frelling Reanimated Hordes_ in the expansion's Act V of that game...

She remained in one spot. A smirk crossed my face. I released the arrow, sending it flying towards the Altmer vampire.

"AURGH!" The Altmer vampire stumbled forward, a silver arrow sticking out of her back. But unlike when I _normally_ made humanoids, monsters, and aggressive animals turn into pincushions, there was something very visibly different this time.

Ice. _Dry_ ice, judging from the mist from the large patch on her right shoulder blade that had formed around the arrow. And she was covered in a very thin layer of frost. Not to mention incredibly slow in movement as she attempted to turn towards me.

Quickly ducking back further into the corridor and remaining silent, I saw the purplish-glowing mass through the walls that was the Altmer vampire move towards the end of the room closest to me, looking around with her own bow in hand. She had not knocked an arrow into her bow just yet, however, asking simply, "Where _are_ you?"

I moved slightly to the other side of the hall to get a better shot, taking aim. Sniper-vision - yay for being at least journeyman in marksman. Fire.

A strange bluish-white aura had surrounded the arrow mere seconds after launch, impaling the Altmer mage in her right side. Another, larger patch of ice surrounded the arrow this time, and she was visibly shivering. And her skin-tone had taken on a blue tinge to it. I quickly knocked another arrow, taking aim and firing again. The aura around it was much smaller this time, and only a brief burst of cold came from it upon impact looking similar to snow before melting in a second, but the three shots coupled with critical 3-times damage at who-knows-how much damage had caused her to fall to the floor, half encased in ice. The glow surrounding her body faded.

One down, four to go.

Dash forward, take what loot you can. Holy _crap_, the sheer number of enchanted arrows she had - from iron all the way to elven. An unenchanted elven bow, too - I'd have to keep that for backup. I'll pass on the robes, thanks - I had at least four or five sets of 'em already and I didn't need more taking up precious space in my pack. Potions are helpful, especially Potions of Healing. No potions of sorcery, though; that's a letdown. A few spell scrolls, too - I'd have to keep them for study, then. Ah, yes, _vampire dust._ Sometimes I honestly wished they would just poof into dust upon death like vamps in _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ (...the series, not the movie set before it).

Stick to the shadows, move towards the next closest target. I turned to my left, noticing another figure in the hall directly in front of me... Aw, _frell_, she was headed right this way! Where to hide, where to hide...!

Aha! The other corridor immediately to the south - that was still dark and I didn't have to worry about being seen immediately. There was a problem when it came to Nords and the Ice Arrow-esque shots I had suddenly been firing in here: Nords are naturally resistant to cold. Fire would work, sure, especially since she was really a vampire, but I didn't even know how I fired the cold arrows, let alone how to fire a flaming one!

No time to lose. Just ready the damn shot and aim, Harris - you've got a job to do. Nord's sword was out, she was walking around. Wait until she's not looking towards you, and... '_Feuer Frei!_'

You've got to love _Rammstein _references, especially when you know what the song-title translates into.

Heat. Light. Definitely fire. The Nord's elven armor wasn't even enough to extinguish the flame now coming from her left arm. She let out a rather loud yell of pain as I drew another arrow back, aiming and firing at her again. A burst of flame, like a miniature explosion of some sorts, launched outwards from her upper left ribcage and the surrounding three feet was briefly lit aflame for a few seconds. Like the Altmer, the Nord collapsed to the ground in a heap, the purple glow fading from her as well.

I lowered my bow, slightly dazed. First ice, now fire. Just what the hell was going on?

With a sigh, I moved forward towards the Nord. Loot, sneak towards next target, kill again, repeat.

...And hope I can make it out alive, in one piece, and _without_ Porphyric Hemophilia.

* * *

Altmer vamp? Dead. Nord vamp? Very dead. Female Orc vamp? _Dead_ dead. Imperial vamp? Definitely dead. The only guy in this entire damn mine?

Still alive and kickin' and chasing me around with an ebony war hammer.

While he was currently shouting some sort of nonsense I didn't quite understand, I had been running laps around the entire mine _trying_ to get a far enough distance away to actually aim and fire again without risking getting hit and/or _bitten._

"For the love of Azura! Don't you guys ever get _tired!_" I yelled as I turned a corner, heading back towards the final room where said male Orc had been with the Imperial. Hope he'll slow down, hope you can get far away fast enough to hide again, hope he doesn't have Detect Life, I'd really rather _live_ and be able to get back _home_, thank you...!

My foot hit something. I fell forward, barely managing to roll over my right shoulder to a halt. Great. I trip over a deposit of silver and now I've got the Orc heading right for me. I let out a cry of panic as I my eyes squeezed shut, my head turning down and looking away as I held my hands out upwards in front of me. The nigh-freezing chill that I had been feeling since I first heard Azura's voice at the shrine suddenly spiked, and then, just as I heard a strange sound like a gust of gale-force wind, it was gone.

The hit never came.

I opened one eye first, and then both once I saw what happened. The Orc was covered by a thick layer of frost, almost see-through _ice_, and it was subliming pretty damn quickly. It was definitely going to hurt him, that was certain. Make use of the little time you got, Harris - he's the last one you gotta deal with.

Arrow to bow. Draw arrow back. Aim. Fire.

Impact. The ice was suddenly gone, shattering into pieces and falling to the floor as the Orc flew backwards. The purple glow of the Detect Life faded away, leaving behind only a corpse that was lightly covered in frost. I approached the now-actually-dead vampire, taking note of a piece of rawhide attached to his neck. Attached to the other end of the hide was an old, faded piece of parchment, upon which was definite writing of some kind. Taking my dagger into hand - a rather nicely-forged elven one - I cut the rawhide loose before opening the note, reading it.

_My name is Ghola gro-Muzgol. My companion's names are Aranalda, Nille Elf-Daughter, Avita Cassiana, and Umar gra-Khar._

_The vampire Dratik died by our hands, but the price was dear. Those into whose hands we have fallen, we thank you, and pray your favor._

_We served Lady Azura. Bring these, our last words, to the Her Shrine. We praise Her with the full fountain of our devotion._

_Our destinies were written in the stars, that our souls and reason be slain, and our world lost forever._

_None can escape Her Fate. But let us be remembered at Her shrine, and in the hearts of Her servants._

_"It is only by fate  
that any life ends  
__and only by chance  
that it is mine...  
not yours."_

Silence. I honestly felt sorry for these people. They gave up so much to stop this "Dratik" character, only to become afflicted with vampirism themselves. They had done a noble thing, isolating themselves to protect anyone else from their fate. With a heavy sigh, I folded the note, putting it in one of my pouches before checking over the dead and the entire cave for loot I might have missed. I had too many near-misses with Porphyric Hemophilia today. Hopefully, now, Azura would be able to help me.

..._Hopefully_.

* * *

It was incredibly early the next morning when I emerged from the Gutted Mine. A quick check of my pocket watch revealed how early: three _frelling _A.M. and dawn was going to be sometime around four.

Once again, I had proven I had the luck of the Divines in there. However, that was only a small part of what bugged me. What bugged me was the ice and flames from the arrows and, in the case of the former, what I could only presume to be myself.

How the hezmana did that even happen! Ice and Exploding Arrows...and Ghola gro-Muzgol had fallen victim to what I could only presume to be an Ice Blast. But those were all _Diablo II_ skills, and the characters that had them weren't able to get them until level 12 and higher. I didn't even know _how _I pulled them off, because I never used spells in my life before...

A voice, male, British accent, behind me and to my right at about 3:30.

"Nice shooting in there, Tex…"

I had been _followed!_

"…mind giving me your number?"

…and that was _totally_ uncalled for.

With one fluid motion, I drew one of my silver throwing knives from my left hip, turning to my right and then throwing it toward where the voice had come from, just barely outside my peripheral vision. Though it didn't _seem_ like there was anyone standing against the wall by the door to the mine's interior, the Life Detect (_how the frell was that still there!_ Nevermind - gift horse's mouth, Harris!) clearly indicated a male elf of some sort standing there.

And even if my perception rolls missed that, they _definitely_ wouldn't have missed my throwing knife colliding with a second right in its flight path.

Suddenly, I was very glad I wasn't using darts instead as I watched my throwing dagger fall over the edge of the path and begin tumbling down the steep slope of the mountain.

For a long while, there was silence.

'_…Alright, __fine__. I'll humor him a little, even if he proves to be a hallucination._'

I spoke, my accent a total play from left field in a country whose inhabitants primarily spoke with British accents, save for the occasional Spanish/Arab mix of the Argonians and the more growling-emphasized speech of the Khajiit. I used my Romanian Gypsy.

"Depends on your definition of 'number,'" I said, folding my arms and turning to the invisible-save-for-Life-Detect-glow elf. "Do you mean 'address' or 'long-distance verbal contact designation'?"

The response, spoken similarly to Robin Williams in his role of Mrs. Doubtfire from the movie of the same name, indicated his identity to be either a hallucination (very likely) or the "Aodh" individual that was likely to be an Incarnate, False or no (very _un_likely).

"Well, now, dearie, you can start with the area code and we can go on from there."

Oh, he was _so_ asking for it…

"Fine, den. 1-583. Number is 735-5633."

And only certain individuals who knew me would get the message from _that_ one.

However, the elf cackled, switching to another, much more familiar accent.

"_Precious!_" he cried. I could practically _see_ the maniacal grin that matched his imitation of Sméagol. "I has the Precious! Thank you, hobbitses."

I blinked, raising an eyebrow. _Hobbitses…?_ "Do I _honestly_ look like a hobbit to you?"

"Yes, little hobbitses."

My eyes half-closed in annoyance as I mumbled to myself, "I _hate_ being a short elf…" and then spoke at normal volume, addressing the manifestation of my insanity/the possible Neravarine, "Alright, are you done _screwing around_ with my head yet?"

Instead of just saying "no," his response was six words three times.

"I've got a jar of di-irt! I've got a jar of di-irt! I've got a jar of di-irt!"

"And guess what's inside it!" I finished, matching my Jack Sparrow sing-song taunting with his. What happened next was, once again, me automatically doing something I couldn't immediately explain.

I suddenly jumped, flipped forward, and practically teleported right behind him, landing before letting loose a powerful kick to the back of his head. The still-invisible elf stumbled forward, slightly delirious but still more-or-less coherent.

"Where's the thump-thump?"

No, he didn't see that one coming. He shook his head as if to dispel the pain, switching accents again to something reminiscent of a lawyer as he glared at me over his shoulder.

"And to my dear sister, who cried _crocodile tears _when I needed sympathy…"

A grin crossed my face as I spoke the last part of the line in unison with my invisible "stalker":

"I leave… a boot to the head."

Both of us took a step forward before attempting to unleash a right roundhouse kick to our apparent opponents. The result: a stalemate. Our own attacks blocked the other's and neither of us were going to budge anytime soon.

Once again, a moment of silence. I blinked, speaking first with slight surprise.

"You missed."

"So did _ye!_" he replied. He used an _Irish_ accent this time. Couldn't he just choose one and stick with it…!

I glared skywards towards my right, my own accent slipping from Romanian Gypsy to something closer to a deeper-pitched Czecho-Slovakian as I grumbled sarcastically to myself, "Sheogorath, smite me now…"

He grinned (alright, I couldn't see it, but he just _had_ to be grinning), switching back to British accent and looking up before adding, "Yes, please! Can I have your job!"

Still in the Czecho-Slovakian, but this time accompanied by an eye-roll and much louder and much more sarcastically than before, "Smite me _completely_ smitten, o mighty smiter, Sheogorath!" I sent my invisible a side glare before adding in a low growl, "For want of a mallet and a good number of _nails…_" '_…so I can nail every joint in both his hands to the Abandoned House in Cheydinhal and then gag him until he either dies from the pain or the Dark Brotherhood deals with 'im, whichever comes first._'

The grin I could practically hear in his voice most likely got wider before he spoke again, this time in a…thick Southern-States drawl?

"Sorry! I think I 'ear Azura callin'!"

He suddenly increased the applied pressure to his right leg, forcing my foot to the ground and thereby breaking the stalemate. As I attempted to recover balance, he leapt back a good distance, cackling madly before speaking in the Sméagol voice again.

"I _has it!_ Hahahahahah! I has the Precious!"

And then all was silent as he suddenly vanished in the blink of an eye, the Life Detect vision fading away from the spot where he was once standing. He was clearly no longer there.

I rubbed my slightly-stinging shin. That just _had_ to be the "Aodh" guy those Mythic Dawn members heading for Morrowind were talking about and currently targeting. Mehrunes _take him_, he was annoying!

"If I come across that idiot again…" I began in an irritated tone, keeping my voice as quiet as possible. I had returned to my Romanian Gypsy accent, however. "…I _swear_ I'll have him developing Dissociative Identity Disorder and flipping between manic and demented so quickly, he won't be able to speak sentences longer than three words coherently enough to be understood by the time we end our second encounter!"

* * *

The walk to Azura's shrine had a strange sense of total _quiet_ that somehow just seemed eerie. There was no wildlife that I could see, and there was just _something_ that seemed just totally _off_ about all of it. It was almost as if I was the only living person in Tamriel or something, as I had this uneasy feeling in my gut that I didn't like.

Why was my vision getting darker?

Sigh again, this time extremely irritated. I was passing out, most likely from overheating. I quickly moved towards the side of the road, where a large patch of healthy green grass was visible. A few paces into the strange opening, and I collapsed to my knees, feeling all the energy inside me just _drain._ Feeling, hearing, sight, even smell - all of it was beginning to go away. Something was wrong, and not in the "I'm-sick-and-need-to-lie-down" sort of way. What little hint of my mind that remained conscious could immediately tell what was going on: something was happening and it was some sort of seriously _powerful_ magic.

"If this is some bastard with questionable intent that's doing this to me, then said bastard is gonna wish he's never been born once I send him straight to Mehrunes Dagon."

I didn't even feel myself hit the ground afterwards.

* * *

_Aodh -_

_I don't know if you truly are the Neravarine, but I pray to whatever deity that has taken me under his/her/hir(?) wing, Daedric or Divine, that you somehow find this._

_There is a cult dedicated to the worship of the Daedric Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, known as the Mythic Dawn. This cult, however, is by no means peaceful. I overheard two members speaking of your existence, and are now en route to Vardenfell._

_The Mythic Dawn plans to unleash Mehrunes Dagon upon this mortal world, and Cleanse it. Even though they believe they are saving Tamriel and, perhaps, the rest of Nirn, releasing Mehrunes Dagon from Oblivion will only result in destruction, chaos, death, and ruin._

_Already, the cult has heard of your existence and, I quote, "martial prowess." The two members I've overheard have been given orders to find you. They intend to invite you into their ranks as an ally. If you refuse, they will attempt to kill you._

_I would note the word "attempt," by the way, as from what I've heard of you, you are more than capable of handling them._

_But do not underestimate them. They are lying low for the moment, but they are slowly and steadily gaining power. They are a threat to not only the Empire, but Morrowind and the entire world as we know it._

_Don't let them deceive you, Aodh. For Morrowind's sake if not that of the entire world, do not give them your aid! They know you will make an incredibly dangerous enemy and will unlikely attempt to try to persuade you into joining them again._

_- KH_

_

* * *

_

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I had so much fun writing this chapter. I had even _more_ fun co-writing a certain scene from the latter third or so of it with JR. I _do _hope this made at least _some_ people laugh, because despite all the seriousness... Why so serious? [/blatant (and seriously _bad_, I'm so sorry) Joker reference]

My fight scenes are crap, yes, but I'm working on it. I promise. They're getting better! (...I hope.)

Next chapter: conversations with Daedric Princes, the Imperial City, Emperor Uriel Septim VII, and _really_ weird stuff happening.

- _Kestrel Harper_


	4. 0IV: 3E425 Secrets

**Summary:** An _Oblivion_ self-insert. What started as a normal school day somehow instead became a nightmarish reality. 17-year old Kimberlyn Harris must now learn to adjust to life as an elf and gain control of her incredibly wild magicka if she's going to survive and, ultimately, save Nirn.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mage's Guild quest/storyline. Heavy spoilers for a certain Daedric Shrine quest, as well.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the unfamiliar.

**KEY:**

_Text like this_ (centered): Some form of writing; indication of date, time, and location_  
Text like this_ (not centered)_:_ book/movie/television/band titles, telepathic messages/statements, emphasis, or otherwise non-English/Cyrodiilic language  
'_Text like THIS_' (please note the single quotes): Thinking only  
**"Text like this":** Disembodied voice speaking  
_**Text Like THIS:**_ Daedric, normally telepathic (because this site, unfortunately, does not support multiple fonts)  
**Flashback****/Present Day**: Exactly what is says on the tin

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 0 - "Ten Years"  
**_**Chapter 0-4 - 3E425 - "Secrets"**

**

* * *

**

_Tirdas, 18th of Sun's Height, 3E425_

_Time - 4:23 AM_

_Location: Tower Stone, Lake Rumare, Heartlands_

_Ever since I spoke with Azura, ever since I was given Twin-Moon-and-Triad-Star, ever since my encounter with whom I can only presume to be "Aodh," I have been at a loss as to what to do in my life. The days spent wandering aimlessly across the many regions of Cyrodiil have been spent as if trapped in an eternal dream. But now, it's almost as if I have awakened from that dream - a dream, or nightmare, that has lasted for three years._

_(And somehow, my normal accent has been slipping into permanent Romanian Gypsy to the point that the former has almost entirely become the latter. It's rather interesting, really. Yes, Romanian. The soprano-range cute-ness that comes from it tends to throw everyone off, especially when I get angry enough to return to my normal alto-range voice.)_

_My talents, both on and off the battlefield, have spiked at an unprecedented rate. This is especially noted in my singing for two reasons._

_First: I'm a lot louder and project more than I did three years ago, and since most of what I tend to sing tends to be the calming/eerie Higurashi main theme or something else that I feel like singing, those who travel the roads at night (meaning, yes, the Imperial Watch) have come to call this "strange phenomenon" (I had to restrain myself from giggling there) as the "Shadows' Nocturne." If there ever was a more obvious Legend of Zelda reference, then I'll have to find it._

_Second reason: ...it seems that my singing also seems to wildly set off spells._

_Every now and then, aforementioned specific songs above trigger a number of spells from the Illusion and Mysticism schools at random. Anything else I sing? Nothing. (Unless you count the volume/projection thing, because I am normally not that loud, even while shouting.)_

_Speaking of magicka, I have been trying to figure out how to properly cast spells. All attempts to cast low-level spells have yielded the following estimated data:_

_25% chance to cast something more powerful than intended (i.e. Snowball becomes Frozen Orb)  
50% chance to not cast anything at all ("Spell? What spell?")  
20% chance of critical failure - spell cast is completely different from intended (i.e. Nighteye becomes Fire Blast)  
3% chance of fizzling out (which is really annoying)  
2% chance of casting intended spell correctly_

_Ironically, I simply think of the spells I want to cast in the middle of a fight, and voila - perfectly cast! So why can't I cast them when I'm actually trying to practice!_

_Unfortunately, as confusing and bothersome as my "wild magicka" is, the event that has continued to pester me for months has been my little audience with Azura. (5th of Sun's Dawn, 3E425 - you want a refresher, you look there.)_

_

* * *

_

**Flashback**

_Tirdas, 5th of Sun's Height, 3E425  
Time - 8:19 PM  
Location: Shadeleaf Copse, Great Forest of Cyrodiil/Skingrad County_

_**Starborn, Edgedancer, Dark Huntress of the Gate,**_  
_**In your hands alone is the power to defy fate.**_  
_**If you wish the Dragonborn to live and Emperor he make,**_  
_**Then you must fulfill Prophecy and then Prophecy break.**_

My eyes snapped open.

I sat up, looking around everywhere, frantically.

This wasn't Azura's Shrine, let alone the Jerall Mountains...

How did I get from halfway between Gutted Mine and Azura's Shrine (oh, look, a rhyme – _frell_, not another one; I'm _not_ Shantotto!) all the way to _Shadeleaf Copse near Skingrad?_

Slowly, I got to my feet, looking around everywhere with one hand ready to grab my sword. I could hear cicadas quite clearly, as they were very loud. Through the branches of the trees above, I caught a good estimate of the time from the red and pink hues of the sky above; it seemed to be early to mid-dusk. Save for the aforementioned cicadas, the silence remained for quite some time as I stared up at the heavens, lost in a rather quiet confusion.

_Thank you mortal. Their spirits are free, and henceforth, above my shrine, five candles shall forever burn in memory of their sacrifice._

_But know this: the sun has set upon your old life. The road you walk is a dangerous one, for there will be much death before the end..._

"...but it is up to you, Starborn, to change what might be written in the Book of Fate."

That wasn't who I thought it was, was it!

I turned around behind me, eyes wide in surprise. Standing near a small pond with a large boulder in it (ah - Shadeleaf Copse, was it?) was precisely the figure I didn't think I would ever meet in person.

She stood near six feet, a Dunmer woman with her hair pulled up high before falling straight down to her mid-back. She was dressed in a light-blue, sleeveless gown with a jeweled girdle around her waist. Her face was beautiful, what many a man would consider "perfect," with an unnatural air of power, grace, and wisdom hiding behind her kind but concerned expression. This woman needed no introduction.

Her eyes were no Dunmer's.

"S-Starborn?" I repeated, confused. "Change what would be written? I... W-Wit all due respect, wise Azura, I am confused. How could I change what would be written, and about what? And... why do you call me 'Starborn'?"

A smile graced the Daedric Prince's lips. I felt slightly uneasy. "I call you Starborn because you are Starborn, born from the twilight on horizons beyond horizons, nursed by the magic of Aetherius, summoned by the cries of the stars themselves to save Mundus, raised by Lorkhan's Heart under Magnus' watchful eye. Now you have begun to walk the starlit road towards your destiny: to return balance to the barriers between Nirn and Oblivion's waters."

Well, that answers _one_ question, but...

"Return balance to the barriers?" My eyebrows furrowed. "You mean... The Mythic Dawn's plan. The events to begin on the 27th of Last Seed... eight years from now."

"Correct. You hold a power unlike any other, Kimberlyn Harris, and it is this power that will save my people...and yours.

"Destruction shall, indeed, walk Nirn, but it is up to you to change the price to be paid... let alone if there is to be a price. For in your hands is the ink and quill to record what will be written in the Book of Fate; to erase the expected outcome and rewrite the end as it should be written.

"But know that your road is filled with trials and tribulations, with powerful enemies both without...and within."

Azura held out her right hand, from which burst a bluish-silver light. The light hovered above her palm for a few moments before moving towards me in a swift fashion, stopping right in front of my face. There was a necklace or choker of sorts in the light, composed of two crescent moons and three eight-pointed, curved stars, all of the depicted celestial objects jeweled with a number of different gems...but I noted rather quickly that the two moons seemed to mimic the appearances of Masser and Secunda.

"Guided-to-Serenity-by-Twin-Moon-and-Triad-Star," said Azura, lowering her hand. The light-engulfed accessory then placed itself on my neck, the jewels becoming part of a choker. The Daedric Prince of the Dusk and the Dawn continued.

"This symbol marks you as one chosen by fate and blessed by a god. My people will see you and recognize you as who you are: Starborn, Edgedancer, the Dark Huntress from beyond Aetherius Gate. They will teach you much of the world you shall defend...and shall teach you much of your own power.

"But take caution with your power. Learn to understand it... lest it, instead, control you."

Her image seemed to shimmer. My vision began to fill with white.

"As such, I have granted you this token... that your deeds be entered in the Book of Fate."

* * *

_Middas, 19th of Sun's Height, 3E435  
Time - 8:27 PM  
Location: Imperial City, Heartlands, Cyrodiil_

I was mad. Nuts. Completely out of my mind - _frelling magra-fahrbot._ This idea was more than insane enough to land me in the Shivering Isles as an Honored Madwoman as soon as I stepped through that door when it opens in Niben Bay. _What the hell was I thinking?_

_Why_, of everything I've ever done while stuck here for almost three years, was I going to _check on the Emperor personally!_

Again, I groaned to myself about being unable to forget about idiotic and persistent ideas as I weaved through the streets of the Imperial City, trying to reach Green Emperor Way while I still had daylight. Already, the sky was beginning to turn orange, yellow, and red. I had decided to take the long route clockwise - through the Talos Plaza, Elven Gardens, and Market Districts - before venturing that direction. Fortunately, Green Emperor Way (otherwise known as the Palace District) had very few people wandering around it at any point of time.

Once I was out of sight of any guard, I mumbled something along the lines of "_Yuurei,_" practically vanishing entirely from sight before heading towards and through the (wide open) doors leading to the first floor of the Imperial Palace, or White Gold Tower. Not only was I not seen, I wasn't even _heard_. My steps, even out of stealth, were so quiet that only someone listening with active focus on only footsteps would have realized I was there.

With the guards all wearing heavy armor that drowned that particular sound out whenever they moved, that clearly wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

The sheer number of floors was so large, I didn't even bother counting. Moving further up towards the Emperor's private chambers, however, the number of Blades out in visible and full uniform grew, all looking incredibly uneasy. The same feeling swept over me as I continued upward. Was Emperor Uriel's health already beginning to drastically worsen?

A large chamber. An old graying man wearing purple robes lined with fur. Aha. And the doors were open, too - almost entirely too convenient for me, at least. I entered the room silently, hearing what seemed to be a self-directed comment from the Emperor. He seemed to nervously shift as he sighed, looking out of a nearby window. Directly across the room and a bit towards the left, I could see a set of wooden double-doors that led to the balcony outside. The old man's gaze was focused on one of the windows that didn't double as a pair of doors to said balcony.

"You've grown over these last five years, John Layton."

My eyes widened in a mix between shock and terror.

How did Emperor Uriel Septim VII _know JR's real name!_

Instinct took control within a mere instant. I didn't care if I got a life sentence in prison for what I was about to do. I would later realize in hindsight that it was a very fortunate thing that I _wasn't_ in my usual armor and was instead in an otherwise all-black set of leather armor with a cloak. I would be most especially glad I _wasn't_ showing most of my face beyond my jaw, either. The feelings of irrational anger and frustration provided the trigger for my rather instinctual magicka to activate. The windows and the doors to the balcony blew open violently in a burst of freezing wind. The candles went out from the force of it, and the doors leading to the hallway I had just come from - and, therefore, the rest of the palace - shut and locked themselves in a rather loud manner. The entire room had darkened in an almost sinister manner.

Confused and appearing rather grim, the Emperor turned, venturing out to the balcony and peering over the ledge, as if trying to locate the cause. I silently followed him out into the foreboding glow of dusk, my eyes narrowed. I drew my sword, raising it towards the gray-haired man's head, but stopped when it was about three inches from the back of it, making my final step deliberately loud enough to be heard. The Emperor's head lifted, shock on his face as he turned towards his right to face the tip of my blade. Ironically, I stood only five feet, four inches, as opposed to his height of five foot eleven.

His gaze shifted from the tip of my sword to my mostly-shadowed face, namely my (clearly visible) eyes. I didn't care if he could see them, or if he could see most of my face.

I wanted answers.

I wanted them _now._

My voice was harsh, as biting as an Evening Star gale, even if I was speaking in my Romanian-Gypsy accent. It was uncharacteristically _intimidating_ when I spoke the five words that got straight to the point of my actions within the past two or so minutes.

"Who... Told... You... That... Name?"

Emperor Uriel's eyes diverted towards the doorway out for a mere second before realizing he wouldn't be able to get out of this one easily. His face turned serious, and the man looked at me straight in the eye as he gave his answer. I would've shuddered at similarities his voice had with Patrick Stewart's if I weren't entirely focused on his reply.

"I heard a man mutter it as he slept."

My eyes clearly betrayed the anger I was feeling. I opened my mouth, intending to ask for the name and location of the man in question, only to be cut off by something else. I felt the cold steel of two daggers - no, _tantos_, I recognized - against my neck, and a familiar male voice speaking in a British accent instead speak.

"How _he_ knows it _isn't_ the problem."

Great. The Sméagol wannabe from the Gutted Mine two weeks ago.

"You wouldn't have asked such a thing unless you knew a person with that name who you believed others didn't know even _existed._"

Annoyance plus anger was a very _bad_ thing. Seriously, frellwit - what was your _first_ clue?

"So that raises the question: how do _you_ know that name?"

I said nothing in response, instead glaring over my shoulder at the elven face I couldn't see. Not that it was necessary for me to speak at all, as the irritating elf from the Mine said just (…alright, _paraphrased_) what I was going to say, nodding slightly to the Emperor as he did so.

"You might want to step away, Uriel; this could get messy if it comes to blows."

I lowered my head a bit as my eyes closed, a rather malicious and borderline vindictive _smirk_ crossing my face. '_Rather rude, aren't you, ya little greebol?_'

I didn't voice that thought, though. Instead, I gave a dark, low-sounding chuckle before I finally decided to speak.

"You're darn well right," I began, feeling my magicka already starting to make my skin tingle. This was pure rage and instinct now, and this guy made the idiot mistake of practically volunteering to be the punching bag. My eyes opened, narrowed in rage as I turned further towards the annoyance from outside Gutted Mine, a borderline-psychotic grin now on my face. "Because I'm gonna _frelling kill ya!_"

One second I was there, and the next, I was half a foot behind the other hooded elf, ready to bring down the pommel of my sword on his head. The elf, however, pivoted with a sweeping kick to the backs of my knees, and I found myself caught off-guard and airborne, parallel to the ground. My eyes narrowed, teleporting again behind him and standing as I saw Emperor Uriel rush back into the room. A wise decision, to be honest.

With the intent to do similar to him as to what he did to me, I grabbed the man's shoulder. I didn't expect him to drop his tantos, grab my hand, and then pull me forward, flipping me over and flipping me onto my back, causing me to land on the stone floor of the actual room rather hardly. I coughed slightly, trying to regain my breath. That was an honest martial-arts move, namely Aikido. Yeah, this guy was _definitely_ from Earth.

I attempted to get up, only to feel a boot pressing down on my chest. The elf spoke, his accent gone.

But I _knew_ this voice.

"I'd stay down, if I were you. You can't defeat a Karanmer in a battle of swords or fists."

An _Armor Elf?_ When the frell did _those_ exist in Nirn! Either way, it definitely fit, seeing as to how the two halves of that term were definitely at least Ayleid in origin. My eyes remained closed, and I felt the chilling wind from before seemingly flow through me. I could hear ice solidifying on his foot and beginning to travel up his leg as I struggled to escape.

"Negation."

A small thump onto his chest - apparently that was how he cast his own spells. My eyes opened as I glared right at the elf that had managed to (so far) best me, said glare being returned. I could have sworn my pupils were going borderline slit-like, because I had to be hallucinating his voice. I hadn't heard it in years, but I remembered it just about anywhere, and since its owner was supposed to be _back on Earth_, I just _had_ to be entering some sort of equivalent of Hinamizawa syndrome.

Struggling further, I grabbed the man's leg as I thrust my left palm outwards towards the balcony doors, attempting to throw him off of my person and at the same time summon a Scamp to serve as a distraction. Once again, however, my magicka was still a frelling son of a hazmot, and nothing happened save for a harsh wind suddenly picking up and sweeping through the room. I was going to actually mumble a curse under my breath when both the older elf and I both heard a deafening roar from outside. The man lifted his leg, turning towards the balcony, and I stopped struggling, sitting up slightly as I. The man knelt down, sheathing his dropped tantos before rushing out onto the balcony again, with me rushing right behind and jumping to the side to stay out of close-range combat.

Gazing skyward, I realized that while I hadn't summoned what I intended to summon, I _had_ summoned a very, _very_ useful distraction. A giant, red, European-style lizard with wings was flapping to remain in one place, and it was definitely _not_ happy. If it were possible, I would've said the elf that had taken me by surprised _paled_ in horror.

"Uriel, get out of here; I'm not sure that I can win this battle."

The sound of footsteps rushing out of the room behind us indicated that the Emperor had agreed with the decision and had most likely taken some sort of hidden passage out. I, however, didn't pay attention, still gaping at the dragon.

"Did _I_ do that?" I asked out loud, blinking twice. The dragon seemed to look at me, with an expression on its face that seemed to non-verbally ask for orders. The wicked grin crossed my face again as I turned to the elf that had crashed what I had planned on being a private discussion with Emperor Uriel. I said only two words.

"_Sic 'im._"

The dragon turned to attack as horror now flashed across the hooded man's face. He hit his chest, casting a spell on himself with a burst of purple light. "_Eagle!_"

He jumped up, heading straight for the distraction, and he wasn't going to come down for a while. About 100 feet from my new summon, I saw him draw a Demon Katana. He stood half a mile above the Imperial City as the dragon began to fly in circles around him, ready to char him black. He placed his left hand on the flat of the katana next to the hilt, running his palm across the length. Once he reached the blade's end, however, he closed his left hand as if gripping another sword-hilt, which, technically, he did: a shimmering Daedric Longsword appeared in its grasp. A bound weapon, by the looks of it. He sheathed the demon katana before withdrawing an Akaviri Katana - clearly, this man had dealings with the Blades.

The dragon shot forward, ready to kill. It was a spectacle to behold - the cloaked elf-man was skillful with his blades, and the Akaviri Katana was clearly ice-enchanted, evident upon causing blood-red ice to appear on a gash he had caused in the dragon's side. I had to wince at the sound of the dragon's roar of pained anger. And this had been four minutes total.

A burst of fire - I saw the man dodge to the side, but not fast enough, as his cloak was lit aflame, along with another strap of cloth I didn't quite catch sight of. Suddenly, the elf that had been my opponent (and now my "pet's") was a walking reflective surface, contrasting his notably _ebony armor_. His bound sword vanished from his hand, the time now up, and he drew another Akaviri Katana (most likely enchanted as well) as he dodged another inferno.

Once more, I winced as I heard him strike, but I saw him head straight upwards for the base of the skull on its back, stabbing both blades into the area of the spinal cord. The dragon vanished into specks of light. Seven minutes had passed at this point. I saw him hastily shoot back to the balcony, which took about two minutes to fly towards. I stepped out of his trajectory as he flew into the doorway, skidding ten feet and bouncing like a rock skipped across a calm lake's surface before loudly crashing the door open and into a pair of Blades that had attempted to enter the room. There was a loud _THUD_ as all three hit the wall, groaning in pain. I silently approached, seeing the notably white-skinned elf roll off the top of the dog-pile.

"I _really_ hate flying now..." I heard him mutter, beginning to take deep breaths.

His eyes remained closed. He didn't hear me approach, and the other two Blades were more or less unconscious. I drew my blade again, pointing it straight between his eyes. The "Karanmer's" eyes opened, not realizing how much time had passed between his crash-landing and the end of his reprieve. I sounded borderline _bubbly_ as I spoke. Those that knew me would also know this was a very _bad_ thing if I had just been through something incredibly stressful, and now that I had the power to, I could be borderline _sadistic._

"So...you mind telling me how _you_ knew the name John Layton yet?" I asked with a smirk, kicking his swords away farther than he could reach. "After all, you _did_ let the Emperor escape before I could get an answer from him."

He groaned, rolling over before attempting to stand before I placed a foot on his back - I wasn't going to let him escape so easily. He let out another groan of pain, along with a wheezing cough that seemed crossed with a laugh.

Before he could speak, however, his eyes closed as he lost consciousness.

The next instant, he had completely vanished from the hall, causing me to stumble slightly as I suddenly realized that what I had been pressing down on was no longer there. All that was left in his place were two amulets, one with a glowing crimson gem, the other with a glowing purple one.

Annoyance crossed my face as I picked the two amulets up, my eyes narrowing slightly. I pocketed them as I sheathed my blade, mumbling aloud to myself, "_Wonderful._ Just when I'm about to get answers, the Emperor has a hidden bodyguard that also doubles as a wonderful distraction that also knows what I want to know, and then said bodyguard gets a frelling _deus ex machina_ to get away from me just as he passes out. Could this day get _any_ worse?"

In hindsight, I realized I shouldn't have said that as I heard a number of doors slam open. Within seconds, I had found myself surrounded by not two, not four, but _ten_ of the Emperor's elite bodyguards - the Blades - in full uniform with katanas out at the ready.

My eyes half-closed. "I just _had_ to ask, didn't I?"

_

* * *

_

* * *

**Author's Notes****:** [singing] CLIFFHANGER! HANGING FROM A CLIFF~! AND THAT'S WHY HE'S CALLED CLIFFHANGER! [/singing] *is promptly shot*

(Yes, I had to do it.)

I'm not good at fight scenes, no. But I'm slowly getting better, although this chapter might show me getting worse. Hey, practice makes, alright?

Next chapter: the confrontation with the Blades, the entrance of a new OC who tends to channel Tira of _Soul Calibur III_ (not her personality in _IV_), and the escape from White Gold Tower.

- _Kestrel Harper_


	5. 0V: 3E425 Shadow

**Summary:** An _Oblivion_ self-insert. What started as a normal school day somehow instead became a nightmarish reality. 17-year old Kimberlyn Harris must now learn to adjust to life as an elf and gain control of her incredibly wild magicka if she's going to survive and, ultimately, save Nirn.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mage's Guild quest/storyline. Heavy spoilers for a certain Daedric Shrine quest, as well.

**KEY:**

_Text like this:_ Writing of some sort, flashback, book/movie/television/band titles, telepathic messages/statements, emphasis, or otherwise non-English/Cyrodiilic language  
'_Text like THIS_' (please note the single quotes): Thinking only  
**"Text like this":** Disembodied voice speaking  
**_Text Like THIS:_** Daedric, normally telepathic (because this site, unfortunately, does not support multiple fonts)  
**Flashback**: Exactly what is says on the tin

* * *

_**Edgedancer**__**  
Act 0 - "Ten Years"  
**_**Chapter 0-5 - 3E425 - "Shadow"**

**

* * *

**

Let's review.

19th of Sun's Dusk, Unknown Floor of White Gold Tower, Imperial City, Heartlands.

The elf that I could only presume to be Aodh (as he fit the description of the target of those two Mythic Dawn members perfectly) had spontaneously vanished from sight as if teleported out. I, in the meanwhile, was now stuck in that very same hallway where he had vanished, having crashed into two now-unconscious Blades, and was now surrounded by _ten more Blades_ with weapons out.

And in the case of the 10-on-1 match, it was clearly all because I had to tempt fate and open my frelling mouth.

My eyes closed as I hung my head, giving a tired sigh. "_Alright_ - I know I went a _little_ overboard with my methods of trying to get some rather important information to me straight from the Emperor's mouth. As for the dragon? _That_ I didn't expect, but I took what I got. Now before you give me the whole 'stop right there, criminal scum!' speech, I'm letting you know now that there are two ways of finishing this. The _easy_ way is for me to actually leave peacefully and _quietly,_ as I have not actually harmed the Emperor yet. Unless you want to take the hard way." I lifted my head, opening my eyes with annoyance evident on my face. "Which I _really_ would rather avoid."

I saw one of the Blades, a Redguard man close to the Emperor's height, raise an eyebrow, turning to the Imperial to his right before speaking in a rather familiar voice. "A _polite_ assassin?"

Oh, goodie. _Baurus_ was about to get involved in all of this.

"At least she's given us the _warning_..." mumbled the otherwise-unknown Imperial, keeping his eyes on me.

"And why should we let you do that?" inquired a female Blade to my right, eyes narrowed.

One of my eyes twitched. "Because if you don't, then in _five minutes _I'll be the only one of the group in front of me still standing. Five minutes after that, I'll be the only person in this _room_ still standing. And I will do so without even drawing my blades to attack. So..." I started, smirking as I looked at the Blades within my visible sight. "...who's in?"

The others looked at each other nervously before cautiously stepping back into stance, a couple of them twirling their katanas in preparation. I heard at least three sets of footsteps from behind me slowly approach, clearly intending a sneak attack.

Once more, I sighed. "_Fine, den_ - hard way it is."

Just when about three pommels were about to crash on the back of my head, I had suddenly disappeared from the center of the circle, causing the three Blades to instead move to accidentally hit _themselves_ on the head and knock each other out with the force of their own blades combined with the heavy armor of their helms. I had reappeared from my little teleportation spell behind a pillar that kept me hiding in the shadows, and the sight of the three unsuccessful Blades falling over plus the remaining seven looking around in confusion caused me to giggle.

Unfortunately, I giggled a bit too loudly, immediately alerting my presence to the remaining Blades conscious. And despite this, I _smirked_, waving my left hand slightly as if to cast a small, harmless illusion to just confuse them even more.

Said illusion, unfortunately, came out by instead casting the entire area into pitch black so that _no one could see_.

My smirk faded, and once again, annoyance crossed my face. _Why_ did I have to cast a Cloak of Shadows? And why was I suddenly using Night-Eye without having intentionally cast it? Urgh, no longer mattered to me at this point; who knew how much time I had? And besides, it would be fun playing around with the Blades, especially with how only one of them was going to be alive in eight years.

"What in Oblivion...!"

"I can't see!"

"Calm yourselves, men! It's only a minor setback."

Let's have a little fun, shall we?

I grinned, smirking as I silently snuck behind three of the Blades so that I was effectively right behind a pair of them. I let off a muffled _thump_ with one of my boots, mimicking someone landing in the spot between them. Both Blades, intending to knock out and not outright kill, wound up thwacking themselves upside the head at the same time and suffering the same fate as the other three idiots from before. I giggled again, now sprint-sneaking silently as I did so. Five left.

"Elise? Rigmor!"

"They're both down, Captain - she must've gotten to them."

"Well, she did say 'without even drawing her blades in offense' - she said nothing about hand-to-hand..."

A tingling sensation went up my spine. I stood up straight as the darkness suddenly dissipated, leaving me plainly visible in front of a wall, looking at my gloved hands as if I were observing my nails in pure boredom. Another pair of Blades tried to rush me, only to crash right into each other as I suddenly leapt upwards, flipping backwards before landing on their backs and planting their faces into the floor, also knocking them unconscious, but also hearing the sound of _something_ cracking. I honestly had to look down at the two as I stepped off their unconscious bodies.

"Oh, fie - I _do_ hope that wasn't lethal or permanently crippling; the last thing I need is pay for the insurance..."

Three more sets of footsteps, this time running, only to split to either side of me. Baurus and his two companions - the Imperial male he had talked to at the start of this humiliating one-sided "fight" and a Redguard woman - now attempted to rush me and knock me out. I rolled my eyes, instead suddenly dropping at the last second before unleashing a sweeping kick that knocked them over and crashing their heads right into each other. Force of collision plus heavy armor helmets tends to equal headaches and passing out. I stood up again, folding my arms as I surveyed the damage.

Less than seven minutes.

...Wait a second...

"Oh, _bugger!_" I cried out, stomping my foot in a rather childish manner as I folded my arms, glaring at the twelve unconscious Blades scattered on the floor. "Now I have to wait for someone to _wake up!_"

Well, I thought I did. My ears perked at the sound of the actual Imperial Guard now moving towards the commotion. I cursed under my breath. Of all times, why _now?_ And all because I had to _overreact_ - it wasn't that big of a deal...

...no, no, it _was_ that big of a deal. This was JR we were talking about, one of _my friends_, whose existence was somehow _known_ to the Emperor. If I just vanished, the entire tower would be on high alert and there was likely to be battlemages with Detect Life spells and/or enchantments available to them in the contingency. I needed a distraction, something that could throw just about _everyone_ off...

Another strange tingle down my spine made me shudder. And then, a voice.

_My_ voice. ...In the Romanian Gypsy.

"Need a distraction?"

I blinked, turning to my right in sheer confusion. Standing there, her blonde hair pulled up into a pair of messy pigtails and a wild-child _grin_ on her face, was...me. Well, she _looked just like me._ Almost. She wore a black tunic beneath a set of dark red and gold armor, along with pewter-colored pauldrons on her shoulders, similarly colored forearm and hand guards, and a red cloak dangling from her left shoulder in a rather uneven manner. Crossed behind her waist in a pair of sheathes were what I immediately recognized as wrist blades - katars. I blinked again.

"I'm a Shadow Warrior, darlink; I can distract them long enough for you to slip away."

Three times, I blinked. "Um...o...kay... Do you have a name?"

Her grin grew even wider. "Killian. Killian Herne. Now, Kieran, I'd suggest you get moving before they actually show up - use invisibility or Cloak of Shadows or something."

"Kieran?" I repeated. That wasn't my name...

"Less talking, more running!" she whispered.

I wasn't going to get much out of her until later, apparently.

With a snap of my fingers, I suddenly vanished from sight, silently dashing through the hallways and down the floors of the Imperial Palace, weaving through the Guard like they weren't even there. From the floors above, where "Killian" was providing a distraction, I could hear lots of giggling and lots of frustrated yells from Killian and most of the Guard, respectively. Again, I didn't bother to count how many floors I had passed through the tower - so long as I went _down_ and I was able to _slip away_, I was more or less fine.

Besides, I had other matters that I needed to think over.

* * *

_Turdas, 20th of Sun's Dusk, 3E425  
Time - 12:35 AM  
Location: Tower Stone, Lake Rumare, Heartlands_

Yet another rock splashed violently into the otherwise calm waters of Lake Rumare.

I was _not_ in a good mood.

And I had every reason to be, too.

_"I'd stay down, if I were you. You can't defeat a Karanmer in a battle of swords or fists."_

To think the answer had been staring at me right in the face.

...To think I nearly _killed him!_

With a loud yell, I threw a much larger, rounder stone into the lake, panting heavily. I was restraining tears at this point, and notably failing, no matter how hard I tried. The mixture of feelings, primarily composed of anger and self-betrayal, were practically a raging hurricane in my head that wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

The Karanmer - Aodh, for certain, I realized - was JR.

The Karanmer was _JR, for Divines' sake!_

"You're going to alert the Watch if you keep doing that, ya know."

I didn't bother turning to the pigtailed double behind me. My fists were clenched in anger. "Let them come - I don't give a damn anymore. After the damage I might as well have caused even if it never happened, I bloody well _deserve it._"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, placing a hand on her waist. "Oh, so the nightingale is _willingly_ going to the iron cage within the golden one?"

"_Nightingale?_" I repeated in a hiss. "More like _banshee,_ thank you!"

Killian rolled her eyes. "Only if you downright lose it and start yelling - you'll wake up the entire city even from _here_, Kieran."

"And why the hell do you keep calling me Kieran!" I actually had to restrain myself from yelling, so it came out more of a really breathy hiss.

Her response was the familiar half-closed eyes of annoyance before speaking. "Well, JR _clearly_ had the right idea by calling himself _Aodh_. You'll need a pseudonym, too. The way I see it, it's fitting, anyway, you being the little dark elf and a rather notable huntress..." She started to inspect her gloves as if inspecting her nails, like I had been doing earlier in front of the Blades. "...or do I need to remind you about your recent record?"

I groaned. This was going to get annoying pretty damn quickly, and it didn't help that I had effectively made myself a wanted criminal by _threatening the Emperor directly_. ...alright, silent threat, but _still..._

"You know, you could always apologize."

My shadow's statement was so incredibly random and well-timed that I had to wonder if there was some sort of psychic link.

"And yes, there is - don't start with me. It gets _really_ interesting, having two of the same voice _argue_, believe me."

"Well, back to the subject you originally brought up - apologize _how?_" I demanded. "If I apologize to him face-to-face, I'll barely get the words out before he calls the Blades on me!"

"Are you a writer or not?"

Confusion went through me again, causing me to raise an eyebrow. Killian sighed, somewhat annoyed. "Draft a letter. Look over it in a few hours, write another draft. Lather, rinse, repeat until you're satisfied with the final product. Then, when none of the guard are looking and the Emperor is not in his chambers, leave the letter on his nightstand or something."

My lips thinned as I turned to the side. "You think it'll work?"

"Well, _something_ has to."

There was a long silence before I heard her stand up straight instead of leaning against the Doomstone. "Well, I'm off."

She turned away as I turned to look at her, her hands folded behind her head and gazing upwards towards the clear skies. "Off _where_, precisely?"

The summoned double grinned before turning to me. "Well, _someone_ has to keep JR in line. Sure, he's likely to be the Neravarine, especially if he's heading into _Morrowind_, but he's only got one pair of eyes. Might as well watch his back..." With a slight whimsical sway, she turned back towards the road before adding, "...and deliver karma while I'm at it."

It was my face that now held the half-closed eyes of annoyance look. "Under the condition that he stays alive long enough that I get to whack him upside the head sometime later."

"Don't worry - I'll make sure he lives. Now how about you get to that letter? I'd try to get it to the Emperor tonight, if I were you. As in _after sundown._"

"I know, I know!"

Killian giggled, giving a slight wave before heading off east - towards Cheydinhal and then Morrowind, specifically to the island of Vardenfell.

With a sigh, I pulled up my pack, seating myself on the grass and withdrawing a spare piece of parchment, an inkwell, and a barely-used quill. My lips thinned. Man, how the frell are you supposed to address an Emperor when you're writing a _letter of apology_ to him?

* * *

_To His Majesty, Uriel Septim VII, Emperor of Tamriel,_

_Though our initial meeting was...less than positively impressive - quite negative, I'm afraid - I wish towards you no ill will._

_In truth, I wish to apologize for my irrational behavior._

_Originally, I had intended to check up on your welfare, as I have not been able to hear much goings-on throughout Cyrodiil, and with all due respect, Sire, you are getting on in years. When you mentioned the name "John Layton," however, I instinctively reacted. Unfortunately, my instincts also follow the policy of "trust no one" and, therefore, I was more-or-less hostile to you when I revealed myself._

_As John, or Aodh as I've heard him be more commonly called nowadays, already mentioned, I would not have asked you how you knew the name if I did not know it myself and if I did not think anyone else would know a man with such a name existed. Yes, I've determined his identity as John Layton. To be honest, there's no one else it could be, not from that voice. As I did not recognize him until after the incident in your quarters last night, our recent encounters have been less than pleasant._

_In truth, John Layton is an old friend of mine._

_I will say no more about the subject, but I will say that I did not expect to see him in Cyrodiil. After an unpleasant awakening in Blackwood two years ago (I had been home when I went to sleep that night), I had believed myself to be alone. On a more sensitive note, I have avoided contact with others as best as possible, so my social skills are rather...unpolished._

_I tend to be very protective of my friends, and to hear his name from you, Sire, immediately sent all manner of danger signals through my head. I had gone overboard by speaking to you at sword-point and ultimately provoking a fight between the otherwise-unseen John (Aodh)._

_...On a related note, I'm not quite sure how I was able to summon a dragon. I originally intended to summon a scamp to distract Aodh at the time._

_Again, I sincerely apologize for my irrational behavior, Sire, to you and to the Blades that came to your aid after Aodh quite literally vanished in front of me. Though I highly doubt such relations can be fixed by a mere letter of apology, as I am quite certain we will meet again in due time (I've learned to trust my instincts concerning such meetings), I believe it at least worth a try. Know that I do not wish to present myself as a threat to the Empire. In truth, I wish to help protect it as best as I can. Ultimately, however, I leave final judgment concerning my character to you, Sire. I cannot change what others think of me, after all. But I do sincerely wish that such an incident never happens again, and that I am better able to restrain myself in the future._

_Sincerely,_

_Kieran Herne_

* * *

It was much later that night - close to ten, actually - when I slipped back into the palace to place my note of apology. Though the Imperial Guard and the Blades were on high alert, I was able to slip past them all and leave the letter on the Emperor's nightstand, as intended. I decided to stay around until the next morning, mainly to listen for a possible uproar from the Guard.

There was.

Truth be told, I don't think anything but my skiing incident with the Bruma guard made me giggle so much later.

_

* * *

_

* * *

**Author's Notes****:** Yes, this was planned. All of it. My character's probably borderline, if not full-blown, Mary Sue, but her magic's currently a double-edged sword and will _stay that way_ for a while. A very _long_ while. And there's a small _Nightwish_ reference here that's not quite as obvious as the one from the previous chapter; see if you can spot it.

As for Killian? She thwacked me upside the head, said "Hi - I'm Killian!" and then proceeded to wreak total havoc on the storyline. She's the internal Chaotic Neutral self that desperately tries to get out on a regular basis and channel through me, but the few times I allow it is only for something harmless and impish, not full-blown Tira-like and violent like she prefers. She speaks like Jolly-side Tira, acts a lot more like Gloomy-side Tira, but rarely tends to go overboard and attempt overkill... but she _does_ have her instances... Yes, I also based a lot of her character off of the Shadow Warrior/Master skill of the Assassin from _Diablo II: Lord of Destruction_, but _un_like the silent double of the game, Killian's got a personality, and for a _very_ good reason, as you'll see a _lot_ later.

_Sheesh_, this chapter's short...

Next chapter: I'm not saying, because it's a surprise that even took _me_ from left field.

- _Kestrel Harper_


	6. 0VI: 3E426 Morrowind

**Summary:** An _Oblivion_ self-insert. What started as a normal school day somehow instead became a nightmarish reality. 17-year old Kimberlyn Harris must now learn to adjust to life as an elf and gain control of her incredibly wild magicka if she's going to survive and, ultimately, save Nirn.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mage's Guild quest/storyline. Heavy spoilers for a certain Daedric Shrine quest, as well.

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing that can be recognized from outside this fanfiction.

**Author's Note:** And let the confusion _begin._ *insert evil laughter here* Pop culture references aplenty here, and beware of puns… really _bad_ puns.

**KEY:**

_Text like this:_ Writing of some sort (normally Kimberlyn's, but not always), brief flashback, book/movie/television/band titles, telepathic messages/statements, emphasis, or otherwise non-English/Cyrodiilic language  
**Text like this****:** JR's writing  
'_Text like THIS_' (please note the single quotes): Thinking only  
**"Text like this":** Disembodied voice speaking  
_**Text Like THIS:**_ Daedric, normally telepathic (because this site, unfortunately, does not support multiple fonts)**  
**

Now, then… Let's get this show on the road!

* * *

_**Edgedancer**__**  
**__**Act 0 - "Ten Years"  
**_**Chapter 0-6 - 3E426 - "Morrowind"**

**

* * *

**

**Kim,**

**I apologize for my actions when I was in Cyrodiil. I don't know if you've figured it out quite yet, but I'm here too and have been since the 28th of Second Seed, 3E416. I'm going to try and send this via Pony Express, AKA the Graviamer named Admia. She is like us, an Elf who, by logic, shouldn't exist. I would leave you with more information, but I'll leave for Admia to tell you. She's the one that saved me back at the palace.**

**So much has happened since I arrived. I've officially become the Nerevarine before I was attacked by the Mythic Dawn (the baka actually tried to recruit me!). Also, once you get a chance, ask Baurus how his stomach is doing and tell I said thanks for the sword. My Daedric is coming along great; all these prophetic dreams (I've had two to date) have helped me nearly become fluent. Frankly I'm getting to the point that I want to kill Azura.**

**Thanks for the gift by the way. Killian's already getting on my nerves and I've only met her once. By the way, it is 25th of Rain's Hand when I am writing this.**

**Your Friend and Fellow prisoner,**

**John R. (J.R.) Layton II**

**P.S. You can take Killian back now.**

**P.P.S. Have you seen my two amulets? One disintegrates all armor and weapons with a touch while the other allows for flight. You'll know them since the gems in them glow red and purple. I think I lost them after our last encounter.**

**

* * *

**

_John R. Layton II (henceforth referenced as JR),_

_Damn right, you'd better be sorry! Do you realize what you could've done to my spine with that little Aikido maneuver! You're lucky the dragon didn't kill you, else I probably would have, you frelling magra-fahrbot son of a hazmot!_

_...and you've been here since 3E416? 3E416! How the frell could you have been here for that long! I've only been here since 423!_

_And you turned your convenient Deus Ex Graviamer into your Pony Express runner? ...Dude, not funny. So not funny._

_Actually, I'm not surprised about the Mythic Dawn agents. Surprised that they followed you all the way out to the Cavern of the Incarnate, but not surprised that they showed up and you deep six'd 'em. I actually wrote a letter to you before I figured out that it was you to warn you about 'em, but Azura said she'd take care of it, so either a) she hid it a bit too well, or b) you made a 00 critical failure on your perception roll._

_You gave Baurus a stomach wound? And took his katana? By the Nine, JR, could you be any more of a frelling khan!_

_Actually, Killian came up with the idea on her own, I just let her go through with it. As for getting on your nerves? Eyhhh... I don't think I can help out there._

_Capable of sniping but still can't see things two inches in front of her face,_  
_Kimberlyn Harris_

_P.S. ...I'll see what I can do, but I don't think I'll be able to do much to help..._

_P.P.S. So that's what they do! They were all that was left after Admia provided your Deus Ex Graviamer back in the palace - I've been trying to figure out their enchantments for months. Disintegration Amulet sounds like a last-resort thing. Flight, though? As in permanent flight? Now that sounds fun... (...and this would be where you'd hear the evil laughter.)_

_P.P.P.S. And you'd damn well better not die against Dagoth Ur, else Divines so help me, I will find your corpse, resurrect you, and then kill you myself! Have a nice day._

_

* * *

_

Ever since I got JR's letter, I had taken to wearing the flight amulet; flying was faster and much more fun, anyway. I also rediscovered an old possession of mine that revived an old pastime and provided me with focus exercises for my magicka.

Getting used to random explosions from my tarot cards, however, was going to take a while.

Like this morning.

* * *

_Turdas, 13th of Mid-Year, 3E426  
Time - 7:02 AM  
Location: Hero Hill, Base of the Valus Mountains, South-West of Cheydinhal_

BANG!

"What in Oblivion-!"

I turned from the small cooking fire to the scattering cards near the bedroll, almost all of them face down. I figured they were face down from the large amount of purple, blue, and red with the familiar green diamond outline in the middle that I primarily saw. All of the artwork I saw was clearly Celtic in design - a deliberate choice on my part and a surefire indicator that yes, they were _mine._ Three cards, I noted, were face up, having landed at separate times each.

Once again, my eyes half-closed to reflect my feelings of annoyance. "For the love of Azura, not _again..._"

This was the... what, fourth time this month?

With a sigh, I held out my hand. The three face-up cards rose, flipping over before flying to my grasp. I turned them over, eyes narrowing slightly as I analyzed the symbols I had received.

Two of Swords. The Morrigan, representing the Wheel of Fortune. King Arthur of Cornwall: the King of Wands, notably ill-dignified.

Something about a bigoted and unpredictable idiot, a lot of possibility that's likely to end in death, and - wait, Two of Swords ill-dignified, meaning an uneasy alliance or truce, but... between who?

For a brief moment, the swords changed. Two sabers - one engulfed in fire and a cross between a normal longsword and saber, the other surrounded by electricity and having the hilt of a katana.

I made a double-take. No, the swords were normal Celtic blades, so why did they...?

_Trueflame. Hopesfire._

_

* * *

_

_**The Tribunal calls, Edgedancer. Fly to Vvardenfell. Speak to the three false gods before the fourth of Sun's Height, for your destiny is tied with the Sword, the Shadow, and the Hermit.**_

_**From the old Star whose spark will soon die, receive and study his knowledge of control. Time will become meaningless.**_

_**The Queen of Swords shall pass her legacy to you, the Star of who she once was and should have remained as. Awaken a sleeping talent.**_

_**In the Hermit's possession is the last of Kagrenac's Tools. Learn how to wield it and reclaim the discarded two. Three become one.**_

_**Soon, the dying Star shall be extinguished by the Sword-Queen. The Sword-Queen will die by the reborn King's hand. The Hermit will remain, his vendetta against me fulfilled, but his fate still tied to Star, Sword, and Shadow.**_

_**Maintain contact with him, for in his fall to temptation, he has learned and can teach you other skills you must know.**_

_**The Hermit and the Emperor shall be your greatest allies when two realms war with magic and fire.**_

_**Should Sword and Shadow fall, only you, Starborn, will be left to right the wrongs of Mundus and Aether.**_

* * *

The cards dropped, landing on my feet. Azura's voice still echoed in my head. For a few long, silent moments, I was stricken mute.

Save for the sound of me making a surprised and disappointed shout at burning my breakfast, I stayed that way for most of the hour.

I didn't break it until after I finished my _correctly-made_ breakfast sometime after eight. The first word, "_Kaeri,_" was simply to summon and gather the remaining face down cards.

My out-loud statement summed up what I had come to hypothesize about my life here on Nirn for the past three years, and my ties to what I could only presume were prophecies of Azura... or perhaps of the Nine Divines (I had no clue).

"Everyone's just out to get me, aren't they?" I asked rhetorically, gazing upwards towards the blue and gray skies above.

* * *

_Loredas, 14th of Mid-Year, 3E426  
Time - 5:13 AM  
Location: somewhere south-southwest of Sadrith Mora, Vvardenfell, Morrowind_

"Oh, _dren!_"

_THWACK._

I groaned, sliding down onto my back with my legs still up against a circular wall - a giant tree, from what I could tell. I turned to my right, twisting myself so that my legs were actually on the ground before I pushed myself back to my feet. As soon as I stopped wobbling, I stretched out my back.

"Note to self..." I started, my voice strained in pain, "...watch out for the giant wizard towers that look like - and probably _are_ - trees... and work on my landings. ...Or, at least, how to _slow. Down._"

I let out a silently-voiced "_OW_," as I rubbed the side of my head. _Frell,_ that hurt. I had overshot my original destination, but only because I felt a strange pull from this direction.

...Actually, from the top of this tower, I realized.

Confusion crossed my face again as I gazed upwards towards the tower's top floor. (Or, at least, what I _presumed_ was the tower's top floor.) I had a feeling I recognized this tower, but my knowledge of Morrowind - or, more specifically, Vvardenfell - was rather limited. But Azura instructed me to come here, and my cards indicated trouble for JR sometime soon.

My eyes narrowed slightly and my pursed lips twisted to the side of my face in contemplation. Finally, I sighed, dusting the ash and dirt off my outfit and armor before heading for the entrance, keeping in mind one very important detail:

Wizards who built towers like this tended not to know the function and purpose of _stairs._

_

* * *

_

"...think the Nerevarine will indirectly destroy you?"

"Not 'think,' Fyr - I _know_. Though he will not deal the death-blow, Dagoth Ur's defeat and destruction will seal my fate."

"But you're a god. How could such a feat be possible?"

"I do not know the exact details, but I know the possibility is there and will most likely become my end."

I hovered silently outside the door at the top of the tower. The pull was coming from inside, but the wizard already had a guest; I felt it more polite to wait.

...Come to think of it, wasn't the first identified by the surname of "Fyr"?

"And the others of the Tribunal?"

"Vivec is cunning and prudent - I believe he's at peace with this possibility, if he already knows. He more than likely already does. As for Almalexia, I am uncertain; I do not think she'll be willing to accept the truth when it comes."

No mention of Sotha Sil. Fyr said the figure was a god. The Tribunal were immortal - for now, at least - and the Temple in Morrowind revered them as gods.

...Meaning I was listening in on a conversation between Divayth Fyr and Sotha Sil.

My lips thinned as I hovered backwards, intending to return to the ground floor and leave. I mumbled quietly to myself, "Perhaps I should come back _later..._"

But the second voice - Sotha Sil's, without a doubt - spoke loudly enough for me to hear through the door without deliberately eavesdropping.

"Halt, young Starborn, and enter. I doubt I will ever receive the honor of meeting another of my kin twice before my time expires."

I stopped in place, curling up slightly as I winced and stiffened. I had been caught.

...Wait, "another of my kin"?

Was Sotha Sil implying what I _thought_ he was implying?

The first voice, that of Divayth Fyr's, spoke after my long, motionless silence.

"I would do as Sotha Sil asks, boy, lest offend a god."

My eyes half-closed in annoyance yet again. Only one reason erased my uncertainty and shyness about entering, and it wasn't the one Fyr had given aloud.

Determination mixed with a slight hint of being insulted flared in my eyes as I returned to the door. I landed on the wood floor before passing through it. My eyes immediately fell on the Dunmer sorcerer. His white hair was thinned (he was already half-bald) and pulled back into a ponytail with a matching goatee visible on his face. Save for the lack of a helm, the man wore a full set of Daedric armor - an impressive display, without a doubt, but one that I was not intimidated by.

"I am a _girl_, t'ank you," I said with a slight glare.

Fyr was otherwise unaffected by my statement; I was _horrible_ at intimidation, unfortunately. The paler-skinned elf in what appeared very much like ancient Egyptian robes complete with golden false beard like those worn by the pharaohs, but I ignored it. I now shifted my attention to him, bowing respectfully with my right hand clenched in a fist and placed over my heart, closing my eyes as I did so.

"Sotha Sil, I'm presu-"

_BANG!_

A single card from my right belt-container shot up, landing on the back of my head. Save for my mouth closing and my lower right eyelid twitching in extreme annoyance, I was motionless and silent again. After about five seconds, I grabbed the card with my left hand, remaining in a bow as I lowered it into my view and turning it over to see what it was.

The Star, dignified. Unexpected help and a great calm.

Annoyance crossed my face again as I spoke in a mumble. "_Fifth__ time this month...!_"

I heard Sotha Sil chuckle while Divayth Fyr shot the Tribunal member an amused but confused look. Sil's statement explained his amusement and clarified his earlier order to me.

"Haven't seen my or anyone else's magicka do something like that in almost 4,000 years."

My eyes widened in shock, though I still remained bent over in a bow.

Sotha Sil wasn't actually Chimer.

He was _whatever race I was._

"Rise, girl - we meet as equals, not god and skeptic," said the immortal pleasantly. "Fyr, another chair, perhaps...?"

Divayth Fyr nodded, motioning his hand as I straightened my posture. I found myself swept off my feet as a rather plush chair scooped me up and then lowered me into a spot in front of the same table Fyr and Sotha Sil now sat to either side of. My single tarot card now shifted to my right hand and was returned to its holder as Divayth Fyr now spoke to me again.

"And your name, girl?"

"Herne," I said simply, now turning my attention back to the two wizards. "Kieran Herne."

"Somehow, I doubt that." Sotha Sil's voice spoke as if it were fact. Which, in truth, it _was._

"Then I'm correct in presuming you know _Aodh's_ real name?"

Fyr's attention was rapt again. "Aillil? You mean the potential Nerevarine who took the cure? The one who was all bloody because of continuously cutting off the growths?"

"If said cure wound up not entirely curing him but simply removing the negative effects, yes, that would be him," I answered. "And if he was rather rude, and/or liable to have you on the ground if you approached him from behind and simply _touched him._"

"...He _is_ Nerevar," said Sotha Sil in a thoughtful, almost melancholic manner, as if strolling down memory lane.

"Who'd have known?" Fyr noted. "I was wondering why he had pure white skin. ...at least, the parts that weren't _cut off._"

I knew there was a reason I didn't like the description of Corpus... I raised an eyebrow now. "Any scarring that's left behind from that? I'm presuming that the disease's positive effects have more-or-less made him immortal, but otherwise..."

"No - the cure sped up the healing process entirely. No scars were left behind."

I mumbled a small, sarcastic, "Frell!" as I snapped my fingers to the opposite side of me. My grin, however, indicated that I definitely wasn't serious, in which both Sil and Fyr had to laugh.

"I know that Aodh is _not_ his real birth-name..." began Sotha Sil, folding his hands, "...but his true identity has not been revealed to me."

Though I didn't give an outward indication of it, I was very relieved. The last thing I needed was for the wrong people, Tribunal or no, to know our original identities, and to be honest, I didn't quite trust Sotha Sil entirely.

Once again, Fyr broke the silence. "So, does _anyone_ know where our mutual friend currently is?"

The answers were me, then Sotha Sil...

"No."

"No."

"_I do!_"

And everyone jumped at the sound of my voice coming from _behind Fyr._

"_Gah!_"

Killian laughed out loud, causing everyone to look at her strangely. I, however, recovered more quickly than the two older mages. "For the love of Azura, Killian, what was _that_ for!"

"What can I say?" the summoned double asked with a grin, taking a seat on a nearby chair with her legs crossed. I noticed as she leaned back, however, I caught sight of a very familiar weapon on her hands - something that looked like two curved sabers forged as one, in a C shape. "It's my nature! I can't help it!"

Silence. Finally, Fyr recovered, and he noted immediately what I had caught sight of. "Is that... _my_ Crescent? How did you get a hold of _my_ Daedric Crescent?"

The pigtailed girl's grin was borderline-impish. ...No, wait, scratch "borderline;" she was just _downright_ impish. "Our 'mutual friend' dropped it."

Fyr blinked. "He...dropped it. He lost his enchanted sword during the battle for it...and he _dropped it?_"

Killian shrugged, dangling the Crescent by the handle. "Didn't show much need for it, not after summoning that little army of his."

I shot her a look. "Definite 'little,' Kill."

"21 creatures, about half of which immune to normal weapons."

"The opponents?"

"Five Ordinators."

My eyes half-closed in annoyance yet again.

"Once again, the Nerevarine redefines the word 'overkill'..." I grumbled.

"In their defense, they _were_ armed with ebony weapons. And the creatures vanished after six minutes."

Sotha Sil folded his arms. "Vivec needs to harden the training of his guardsmen, then..."

Killian shrugged. "Yeah, they didn't have much of a chance. The army had six minutes; the Ordinators were down in two. Then again, what d'ya expect when over half the ranks of said army are _daedra?_"

I hissed slightly. I knew what _that_ meant. "Oh, fie. Where'd he learn _those_ spells?"

"He _might_ have learned from me..." said an apologetic Fyr.

"And which ones would _those_ be?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Perhaps the Golden Saint and the Winged Twilight spells."

I shot him a look. "And you _let him_ learn those!"

"...Um... ...Yes."

My face was quickly acquainted with the palm of my right hand.

"Shouldn't _you_ be the mage?" inquired the unison voices of both Killian and Sotha Sil in my direction before turning to look at each other. They then shrugged - they'd pass it off for now.

"He's been here...for ten years," I growled. "I've been here...since _423!_ There is a _very obvious difference!_"

"You should _still_ be a better mage than he is," noted Sil.

"For the record, I _did_ summon a dragon. Aodh may have killed it within seven minutes, but I _still_ summoned a dragon."

"I remember Nerevar taking on an army." Sil's off-handed comment caused us all to turn to him. "Guess who won?"

"Nerevar," I said simply, folding my arms. "Kind of obvious."

"Without a scratch. Or breaking a sweat."

"...Yeah, my dragon still outdoes that."

"Would it help to know the army was sent by Mehrunes?"

"...Now, I don't remember reading about _that..._"

"It's not a very well known piece of history."

"Then again, Nerevar still has years of experience over Aodh..."

"_Actually..._"

* * *

Two hours later, one of my blood vessels was threatening to burst. Simply hearing the _entire damn story..._

"So let me get this straight. Not only has Aodh been here ten years, he's also a more talented mage than I am..." I felt my eye twitch at least twice, "...he killed a dragon that I summoned (entirely by accident) in _seven minutes_, shows absolutely _no_ respect for authority, drives just about _everyone _he meets to the Shivering Isles and back, has a pair of powerful Akaviri katanas that he _stole_ from the Blades, wears absolutely _no armor_ at this point in time, cut off nearly all of his skin _just_ to come here and get cured _without a scar..._" I was _really_ trying to hold myself back from yelling right now, "...but you mean to tell me that he also has _Nerevar's frelling memories_ and he's an _Armor Elf with all the abilities you've told me about so far!_"

Sotha Sil nodded. "That sounds about right."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose as I hung my head. "Oh, _sure_ - and once again, I'm the one left in the _dust_ no matter how much I try to get ahead! _As usual..._"

No, I wasn't happy.

"Which is why you need to learn control," explained Sil. I sent the currently-immortal definitely-not-Chimer a glare. "Which I can teach you."

As if on cue, Sotha Sil held out his hand, causing an entire stack of books to appear. I groaned, now fully covering my eyes with the side of my hand. Studying and I _did not mix._ "Great. As if I didn't have focus problems already..."

"And when you've finished learning," began Killian, grinning again, "we can go and kill our mutual friend together!"

I shot her a glare out of the side of my vision. "Drive over the edge, perhaps, but not outright _kill..._"

"The edge of a cliff, then," she said. "...A very _tall_ cliff."

"Whatever."

Sil smirked. "So, then... Where shall we begin with your tutoring?"

My head lifted to look at him in confusion. "...Come again?"

* * *

_Loredas, 21st of Mid-Year, 3E426  
Time - 11:04 AM  
Location: Mournhold, Morrowind mainland_

Durzogs. I was gonna come to _hate_ the little annoyances after my stay here in Mournhold.

"Little" being the understatement of the century.

"Hauauauauau!"

Alright, normally I _didn't_ pull a Hanyuu, but considering the number of the lizard-dog creatures that were chasing after me through the streets of Mournhold, the cry fairly summed up my current feelings of "Oh, _frell!_" right about now.

Left turn, right turn, across the bridge to the bazaar, glance behind, oh, _shit!_ They're within feet of me - why couldn't I be _faster...!_

The doors to the Temple Courtyard burst open as I dove through, tumbling to a halt. Within (very disoriented) moments, I noticed figures clad in silver armor between me and my sludgepuppy pursuers, said armor looking heavy and incredibly similar to the golden Indoril armor worn by the Ordinators in Vvardenfell. Argh, I was still so _dizzy..._

I attempted to stand as the sounds of battle reached my ears, only to buckle over and fall onto one knee as my vision very nearly went entirely black. Must've stood up too quickly. After I managed to stand and rush in some direction again (all I remembered was a stone pathway), I managed to pass through some sort of door and then slam it shut behind me. With a sigh of relief, I sat down in front of the door, my vision still dim. I was able to catch my breath now. ...Hopefully.

Damn it, why couldn't I see?

"Welcome. Are you in need of healing?"

My response was automatic. "I don't know - I've been running for my life and I can't quite see... Where am I?"

"This is the Temple of Mournhold, home to the Lady Almalexia."

Great. Just _wonderful,_ that explained why everything was a bit darker than I thought it was supposed to be... "Oh. Must've... taken a wrong turn. My sincerest of apologies, I really should be go-"

_"Send her in."_

I fell totally mute before my eyes closed. I let out a silent _"Frell,"_ before hanging my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. I didn't turn to the Dunmer woman who had greeted me. "Which way am I going?"

"Straight through the arched doors."

"Thank you."

_Why_ could I not take anyone by surprise? And _why couldn't I just keep inconspicuous here!_

Really, it was gonna get annoying pretty damn quickly.

* * *

Almalexia was a fire-haired, tan-skinned woman, I noted, though I had to wonder about the rather similar facial features that I shared with her. Not like she could tell, anyway - not with my hood still up.

The woman smiled. "Remove your hood, Varlaismer - your identity is not unknown to the gods."

My eyes widened from behind the shadows of said hood. Cautiously, I did so, allowing my braided hair to now fall behind me. "V-Varlaismer...? How did you...!"

"It's a bit _hard_ to not notice magicka reserves much like Sotha Sil's from any distance, young one," she answered. "Though, I must admit - yours are a bit _wilder_ than his are."

"Sil has 4,000 years of experience on me," I mumbled in response. "I'm still only a child."

"But he has taught you, nonetheless."

I noticed out of the corner of my eye the six to eight members of Her Hands looking between me and the Tribunal member in shock, one of them even whispering to the others about something that I didn't quite catch. Most likely the physical similarities. Or was it the term "Varlaismer" that she used? Sotha Sil had claimed that was what he was - what _I_ was - and that we were rare types of elves not commonly seen in these days, but I was still uncertain of the information I had been given. Or, perhaps, it was the fact that I had been, according to Almalexia (which, actually, _was_ the truth), taught by Sotha Sil himself.

Her smile never faded. "You actually remind me of myself, mortal, despite our obvious racial differences."

"I noted," I replied simply. I couldn't help but occasionally glance at her bodyguards - the whispering was making me nervous.

She nodded. "And, it seems, despite Sotha Sil's teachings, you're not under full control of your magicka."

I shook my head, folding my arms before turning to the side. "No. But then again, control does not simply come to one overnight. Or over a single week, either."

She chuckled a bit, approaching me directly before handing me something. "This, I believe, will assist you in obtaining that control. You will need it, Starborn, during the times ahead. It is an old treasure of mine from long ago, when Nerevar still lived... but its powers are best in your hands now."

I blinked, taking the object into hand. It was a silver circlet, with a teardrop jewel in the center - what appeared to be a mix between every single color imaginable in thin ribbons: a mystic topaz of some sort. The silver metal was curved and seemed to be some sort of intricate Celtic-like weave of some sorts. Even more awe-inspiring was the sheer amount of _power_ that I felt while I held it. I could tell that it had an enchantment or a dozen placed upon it - Detect Enchantment, and resists on everything except for magicka - I _really_ couldn't tell how many enchantments there were...

"W-With all due respect, Lady Almalexia..." I started, lifting my gaze to the second member of the Tribunal, "...why...?"

"You will learn in due time, child," she informed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "And as I said - its powers are best in your hands now. You had best be off - time grows short, and the Nerevarine will likely require your aid."

With one last look at the circlet, I nodded, taking my cue to turn and leave. Unfortunately...

BANG!

I groaned.

"Not _again..._" I mumbled, catching sight of the three cards that were now floating down in front of me. With one glance at the three, I summoned them to my hand, flipping them over. The feeling that they had reacted to warn Almalexia immediately began to tingle in my fingertips, especially when I realized what the cards were.

The Hermit, ill-dignified. Seven of Cups, dignified. The Wheel, ill-dignified.

My eyes narrowed. The words, however, were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

"You are the finite line, Almalexia of the Tribunal, not the infinite circle, everlasting and eternal. Ultimately, all things must end...and no member of the Tribunal is an exception, not even you.

"Death approaches your door. Either embrace the end as a new beginning...or destroy yourself in defying your ultimate fate. For when the King of Swords returns, the end will finally find you."

I shot a serious look over my shoulder towards the sole female member of Almsivi, simply standing there for a moment before I turned and left quietly. I kept my eyes on the path in front of me, not looking back.

Scarily enough, I managed to leave the temple in one piece.

...I _hate_ Daedric Princes sometimes.

* * *

_Morndas, 2nd of Sun's Height, 3E426  
Time - 6:14 PM  
Location: Temple Canton, Vivec, Vvardenfell, Morrowind_

I was very, _very_ thankful to find the Temple Canton and the Hall of Wisdom in Vivec, especially the Library of Vivec contained within. It finally gave me someplace peaceful to study the books I had wanted to read ever since I arrived on Vvardenfell and a place to _write down_ my own thoughts in peace. I had been eager to read the books that Sotha Sil had given me back in Divayth Fyr's tower, especially his notes on how to properly control my own magicka, but I had been unable to actually get a good look at them until now.

For most of the day, I had remained in the cool Library of Vivec, studying and note-taking and taking a break to read a different book every now and then. I had written what could either be considered rants or even, perhaps, sermons by those who would try to flatter me during these times as well, a collection of nine total. My own philosophies and observations of the world - worlds - written down by ink and quill. My own private use. Words of the past and words of the never-was. Words of the many possible futures and words of the never-will-be.

Words of Nirn and words of Earth.

...Damn it, I was in a philosophical mood again.

Footsteps. A voice, female.

"You are the one called Kieran Herne, yes?"

I looked up, turning to the Dunmer woman that had approached me, garbed in an expensive dark blue robe and her dark auburn hair either up in a bun or kept short. I recognized her as a member of the Temple, one who frequented the Library if I recalled, but also seemed to be ringing quite a number of bells due to her appearance. Something told me that she was rather important, although I wasn't quite sure how. I gave a single nod, keeping my hood up.

"That I am. You have need of me?"

The woman gave a polite bow, handing me a letter sealed closed by crimson wax with an otherwise-anonymous seal.

"My name is Mehra Milo." Ah. That explained the "really important" vibe I got. "I was instructed by Andusu Rothrano to give you this. She said that it's very important that you read it immediately."

Despite my confusion, I took the letter into hand with a small nod. "Thank you, Mehra Milo, and if you see her, please extend my thanks to Andusu Rothrano as well."

"You're welcome, Kieran Herne."

With those parting words, the woman I now recognized as a Dissident Priest sympathizer bowed again before turning and leaving, returning to her duties. With a slight hint of confusion, I undid the seal, opening the letter. My eyes widened, however, upon seeing the words before me.

_Lady Kieran Herne, Varlaismer born of the Tower,  
Trusted friend and companion of the Nerevarine,_

_Word of your presence here in Vvardenfell has reached my ears; I believed it only a matter of time before your arrival here in Vivec. Sotha Sil has informed me that you have great potential and Almalexia has remarked your connections to the Nerevar reborn._

_I wish to speak with you in person, as there is a matter I believe you are able to assist with concerning the Nerevarine, Aodh Aillil._

_I will wait for you in my palace at the southern end of my city. I have already informed the Ordinators of your arrival and you will not be stopped upon approach._

_The door will open for you upon approach._

_With great respect and patience, __  
__Vivec_

I had to read the letter twice, three times, four in order to make sure that no, I wasn't dreaming, the text was not going to change anytime soon, and this was clearly the real deal. A direct summons? From _Vivec?_ Sure, I already met the other two members of the Tribunal, but Vivec was _expecting me?_

My lips thinned as I folded the letter, repacking my books and making certain the ones belonging to the library were put away where they belonged. My rants were folded and placed in another, separate pouch as I readjusted my hood, quickly venturing out of the Library and then into the Hall of Wisdom, intending on heading straight for the Palace of Vivec.

Though false god he was and famous for his patience as I already knew, it was best _not_ to keep Vivec waiting.

* * *

The door was locked when I initially saw it, but as Vivec had wrote, it unlocked when I got within a few feet of it. Either Vivec unlocked it himself or my magicka once again spiked and unlocked the door like it did back in Mournhold. Spotting the third member of the Tribunal upon entry, however, was easily done. It's a bit hard to _not_ notice the elf floating in a cross-legged, borderline-meditative position whose skin was half gold and half silver in color.

"So, what's the idiot doing _now?_" I asked.

"He has almost completed his task as the Nerevarine," was Vivec's response as he turned to face me. "All that remains before him are the Ash Vampires and Dagoth Ur, as he has ignored a great portion of the Nerevarine prophecy."

I gave a small nod in response. "Yup. That sounds like Aodh - skipping the details and heading straight for the heart of the matter. Even if he's charging in blind, but then again..."

"He _did_ come visit me." His hands folded. "However, he did not take with him Wraithguard."

Once again, my face was quickly acquainted with the palm of my right hand. "_Idiot!_ Does he _want_ to get himself killed! No wonder you summoned me..."

He nodded. "And so, because time grows short, I bestow Wraithguard upon _you._"

...Repeat that statement again?

My head lifted as Vivec handed me the Dwemer gauntlet, the gold starkly contrasting my dark and silver-accessorizing wardrobe. Vivec's statement was short.

"You have two days to prevent our mutual friend from doing something _stupid._"

I shifted my gaze from Wraithguard to the half-gold and half-silver Chimer in front of me. "And you know this..._how?_"

"He specifically stated that he will complete the quest on the fourth of Sun's Height."

I blinked. The Fourth of July? The frell happened on the fourth of July (other than Independence Day and what he planned on making the fall of Dagoth Ur)? "Did he state _why_ that specific date?"

"No. His closing words were 'Sayonara, Vivec-san. Go to hell,' before he left. He also mentioned that prophecies aren't everything."

'_Yup - sounds __just__ like him. JR, did you just flip off Azura? ...__and__ Vivec? ...No, wait, you __did__ verbally flip off Vivec; why did I think that?_'

"And since you seem to know him better than most, do you know what this 'hell' he spoke of is?"

For a few brief moments, I had to restrain myself from laughing. I had forgotten that people here didn't quite have concepts of "heaven" and "hell" like we did back on Earth. "Think Mehrunes Dagon's Deadlands, only a _lot_ worse. As in 'burning for eternity and beyond'."

"...Understandable. And 'Sayonara, Vivec-san'?"

"In other words, he told you 'goodbye for a _long_ while,' while '-san' is used as an honorific. Nowhere near as honorable as the honorific '-sama,' however, which is closer to your station."

Vivec sighed. "Yes, he's Nerevar... _and_ he's angry."

"With all due respect, Vivec - I think that would be the greatest understatement of the _era._"

* * *

_Tirdas, 3rd of Sun's Height, 3E426  
Time - 4:05 AM  
Location - Ghostfence, Tower of Dusk, Vvardenfell_

You'd think I'd _run_ when I saw the sky begin to turn red, but _no._ My friend was walking straight into that death trap and I had to stop him. I didn't care if he had Corpus - he could get Divines _knows_ what sort of diseases in there and the last thing anyone needed was for him to get himself _killed_.

And - well, speak of the devil! There he was, leaning against the wall on the opposite end of a bar (_why?_) talking to an old Imperial man.

...Wait a second, an _old Imperial man?_

"Tiber Septim..." JR started, acknowledging the man in front of him. "I thought you only appear when I have Wraithguard..."

'_Technically, Wraithguard __is__ in the building,_' I thought in response, remaining hidden in the shadows thanks to my magicka and my natural instincts of "must stay hidden," away from the prying eyes of whoever else was still in the room. The Dwemer gauntlet in question was actually donned on my right arm, thanks to Vivec's training. Ironic, really - I had spent more time talking with Vivec than I had talking with Sil and Fyr back at Tel Fyr. ...Then again, I spent a week _training_ with Sil instead of just _talking_.

Yeah, it was official - Vivec was the Nirn equivalent of the Minbari Religious caste from _Babylon 5._

"You are ready, even if others do not think it," answered the old man - Wulf, Tiber Septim, Talos Stormcrown, choose a name and go - getting straight to the point. "Uriel Septim VII has heard the prophecy, as have I. You are the one who is meant to break and complete prophecies, as are your friends."

...Damn it. I saw him glance my direction. Unsurprising, really, seeing as to how he was the _Ninth Divine_... And all the gods - Divines or Daedric Princes - seemed to know where I was at any given moment. It got _really_ annoying.

"Wulf, Talos Stormcrown, Tiber Septim; interesting names, but let's cut to the chase." '_Good idea, JR._' "You knew I was coming to meet you, and I knew that you would most likely be here. So… wish to give me your blessing before I go end all of this?"

"Yes. Take this old man's lucky coin and keep it with you as you go into Red Mountain. All I ask is that you always remember our meeting."

The old man handed the white-skinned elf an old, worn coin - an unassuming item that even I could tell was much more than what met the eye. And I had to agree with JR's parting statement as "Wulf" faded from view.

"I doubt I could forget meeting with someone besides Azura, for once."

I saw my (clearly much older than me now) friend straighten before he began to walk towards the exit of the fortress, feeling the coin a bit. For some reason, I couldn't help but have a familiar scene go through my head.

_"Have fun stormin' the castle!"_

_ "Think they'll make it?"_

_ "It'll take a miracle."_

_ "Buh-bye!"_

"Ah, wonderful - spontaneous _Princess Bride_ flashbacks..." I grumbled to myself as I stood up straight. Thank whatever deity that liked me for silent walk and automatic magicka that kept me hidden from visibility - otherwise, I was probably going to get my ass kicked and have the floor wiped with _me_ as the mop if he even realized I was there.

* * *

I _knew_ there was a reason why I didn't want to come to Vvardenfell in the first place. As soon as JR hit the switches to head inside the Ghostfence, I immediately saw why.

_Ash storms._

Thank heaven for small miracles; I came prepared.

I quickly lowered my hood, reaching into my pouch before withdrawing the item I hadn't used in ages: my old aviation goggles. Placing them over my head and replacing my hood, I withdrew a small strip of cloth to tie around my nose and mouth to prevent ash from further clogging my respiratory system.

Something told me that if I were visible, I'd look like a Sand Person from _Star Wars_.

* * *

Red Mountain lived up to its name, for certain, as well as its reputation of being the most dangerous place in Vvardenfell. However, seeing as to how I was tailing JR and none of the enemies there could even perceive me, much less _live longer than two seconds_ as they attempted to attack the Nerevarine, I was more or less unscathed. Ready to admit that southern California in the middle of July was like a cool mountain range compared to this, but unscathed.

And then came the part where the show-off decided to _float_ down to Dagoth Ur's citadel instead of jumping or pulling a reenactment of my incident with the Bruma Guard.

Well, better the floating down rather than the snowboarding and death-defying leap over the pool of lava down there.

I took my cue to follow, flying right behind the idiot that was my best friend as he made his way towards the entrance. He turned the crank and just when I was about to rush through after him...

THWACK!

The stone sphere closed behind him, resulting in me face-planting into said stone sphere.

I groaned as I fell onto my back, sitting up and rubbing my head. "Note to self: work on flying speed and perception rolls while flying at high speeds."

Though wobbly, I managed to stand back up. I lifted my goggles to the top of my head, glaring at the stone sphere. "Great. _Now_ how am I going to get in unnoticed?"

Despite the fact the question was purely rhetorical, it was answered with a laugh...and another voice, also female, but definitely _not_ anything close to mine.

"I can help you with that."

I immediately turned, withdrawing one of my throwing knives as I faced the newcomer. She appeared to be a Bosmer in leather armor - dark leather armor, and in a familiar form: that of the Dark Brotherhood, sans hood. My eyes narrowed. I didn't trust members of the Dark Brotherhood, to be honest, and with very good reason. The _last_ thing I needed was to find myself stabbed in the back by one of these assassins.

She held up her hands. "Don't worry - I'm not Dark Brotherhood."

Like _that_ would lower my suspicions. Though I lowered my dagger, I didn't lower my guard. There was something familiar about this woman that I couldn't quite place...

The Dunmer - wait a second, I thought she was a Bosmer! - approached, motioning for me to follow. "Come on - we don't have much time before we miss our mutual friend doing something _stupid._"

Okay, there was no way in hell she could be Vivec. My eyes narrowed. "Who the hell...?"

"Admia - Graviamer of the Steed, at your service," said the Altmer - what the _frell!_ - with a bow and a smirk. "Or, as Aodh would call me, the Pony Express."

My familiar annoyed expression crossed my face again as I began to follow her. "Okay, that just upped _that_ little title to a whole new level of bad puns and _hell no_."

What really annoyed me? She seemed to just put her hand up against the sphere and it opened. She motioned for me to follow.

"C'mon - we're gonna miss the show otherwise!"

Why did everyone have to have better tricks up their sleeves than I did?

* * *

"It has been a while, Nerevar. I merely wish to talk. Though, if I may ask, why do you come unprepared? Where are Kagrenac's tools?"

My eyes narrowed as Admia and I arrived in the tunnel leading to the facility cavern, and I glared down at the Ash Vampire with a golden mask standing in front of my old friend. Sure, we were invisible, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to glare at the idiot that thought he could get away with this 4,000 year-long war. Conflict. _Thing._

Besides, I knew where said tools were - wrapped up in a frelling _tablecloth_ on JR's back. "Come unprepared," huh, Dagoth? Sorry, but JR was smarter than that.

"I _don't_ wish to talk, Dag," was the Karanmer's answer. He removed his right glove, lifting his hand to show the back of it. I could see a metal band around his ring finger - all the proof I needed to know precisely what he was wearing. "I have fulfilled the parts of the prophecy that matter. I don't need the Ashlanders, nor do I need the Great Houses. Their petty desires do not matter to me."

Despite the mask, all three of us could clearly tell that Dagoth Ur was surprised by this. "You have arrogance, Nerevar, but what of Kagrenac's tools? You could not have brought them, for I do not see Wraithguard with you."

'_That's because Wraithguard's __right behind him__, you blind frellwit,_' I thought.

"That means it is still in possession of Vivec, your friend...and betrayer."

'_My previous thought still stands, even if you don't realize it._'

"And I thought I said to _stow it,_" JR answered in a growl. "I went through _hell_ to get here and I'm not going to ruin the moment by talking for the next hour or so."

Yup. Straight to the point, as usual. He withdrew one of his Akaviri katanas - the ice-enchanted one, judging from the small breeze of cold that I felt upon its summoning - before moving forward. Dagoth Ur hadn't even a chance to cast a spell when the Armor Elf touched one of the Ash Vampire's shoulders with the back of his right hand. "Touch of Deprivation."

My magicka senses immediately spiked - this spell was powerful enough to remind Ur that he might have been immortal, but _he was no god._ Blind, silence, and ow! _Frell_, that was such a high pitch! I visibly winced as I covered my ears, my right eye beginning to twitch as I attempted to block it out. "This had _damn well_ better not rupture my frelling eardrums else I'm gonna _kill him myself_..."

Admia shot a look of surprise at me. "You can actually _hear_ that effect of the spell?"

I could only nod, having only barely heard what she said...and what Ur said soon after, for that matter, even as JR made a diagonal slash down his back.

"You cannot slay a god, Nerevar."

He's doing just that _right now_, you frelling son of a hazmot.

Besides, literally _losing your head_ would support my end of the argument.

The sphere blocking the next door opened halfway, allowing JR - and, therefore, me and Admia - an opening into the next lava-filled pit of a room. The older elf stopped briefly to pick up an object - a ring, from the looks of things - before stepping through the door into the chamber beyond. Fortunately, said door didn't close like the first one at the entrance to this damn hell-hole had. JR walked forward, adjusting the tablecloth that held Sunder and Keening as he did so.

And Ur, being an idiot, had to begin a monologue.

"You have made a mistake, Nerevar, by coming in here. I said you cannot slay a god."

My eyes narrowed, having reactivated the Amulet of Flight again so that I was hovering a good couple of hundred feet above the scene - and Admia was... Wait a sec, where the frell did Admia go! Argh, I'd contemplate that later. I was using every shred of willpower I had to hold my tongue at this point, and I could _not_ interrupt this fight no matter how much I wanted to. This was JR's battle. Besides, if I _did_ get involved, I'd be the one receiving the death-blows.

"You shall die in here, for you cannot escape. No spell of Recall or Intervention works in this chamber-"

And then JR cut him off with the best three words anyone could speak to Ur's face.

"_Shut up already!_"

Cue the "This! Is! _Sparta!_" kick despite Ur's magical shield protecting him from all harm. It succeeded in knocking him back, though. Shame he didn't fall into the lava.

JR, now acting by what seemed to be pure instinct and/or adrenaline rush (the combined were most likely, but nonetheless), sprinted to the ledge overlooking the Heart of Lorkhan before jumping and _skydiving_ to the ledge below. He landed, then burst forward with a flash of purple light - oh, great, that Eagle spell again - across the bridge leading to said heart. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, acting quickly.

Damn it, this would be where I'd have to come in! I attempted to burst forward myself, only to find myself _caught by my cloak._ I turned behind me to face the now-Bosmer Admia, balancing on her knives embedded in the rock wall of the chamber, holding onto my cloak with one hand and onto another dagger for balance with the other.

"Hold on a moment," she informed calmly. "Let's watch this."

"And risk him getting _killed!_" I hissed in response with narrowed eyes.

"Just watch," was all she replied with. I let out a low growl as I turned back to the scene below.

The white-skinned elf had Sunder and Keening at the ready, having unwrapped them both from the tablecloth and looking incredibly pained as he held Sunder in his left hand. He brought the hammer up before swinging down - a loud, high-pitched sound reached my ears as I heard the enchanted weapon strike the barrier surrounding the Heart. He dropped the hammer, withdrawing and practically inhaling a healing potion of some sort (or at least some sort of pain-killer), before picking up Keening.

Ur was _not happy._ "No, you _fool!_ What are you doing!"

Keening collided with the barrier surrounding the Heart once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. The barrier fell; the Heart was exposed. JR looked like he was going to need a _lot_ of morphine for this one. He dropped the shortsword, now using his main blade - the ice-enchanted katana - to slash down at the Heart. The Heart of Lorkhan was cloven in two. Ur's scream of fury was loud, but JR ignored it, instead regathering the two weapons back in the tablecloth, being absolutely careful not to touch them again. The "god" Akulakhan, a Dwemer machine that had led to the downfall of the entire Dwermer race, began to collapse into pieces as JR rushed across the bridge, said pieces falling into the lava behind him. Dagoth Ur, however, was on the Karanmer's trail within seconds, almost entirely consumed by his own rage.

"See? Told you," said the Graviamer behind me. I simply shot her a glare.

"That was reckless and you _know it,_" I growled in response.

"You are a _fool,_ Nerevar!" shouted Ur, drowning out the last of my words with the volume. "Now you shall _pay_ for your impudence!"

Right. And I was a Looney Tunes voice actor.

One spell cast, only to be absorbed. Ur didn't have time to unleash a second one, not when JR's sword sliced through his hands. He let out a scream of pain as his wounds became covered by crimson-stained ice, and JR's left hand raised up. Instinct took over as I pulled my goggles over my eyes, and not a second too soon.

"_Flashbang!_"

Damn it, he just _had_ to blind everyone, didn't he?

The sound of a sword slicing through flesh. A body hitting the floor. The light faded. JR stood in front of Dagoth Ur, who had now fallen onto his front with a diagonal slash across his back again. The ice-enchanted blade was held out to the side, and for a few tense moments, all was silent. Dagoth Ur lifted his head.

It was curtain call at the opera.

"No..." began the deluded Ash Vampire. "I am a god. I cannot be killed like this."

JR stole the words straight from my mouth. "You were never a god, Dag. Just like the Tribunal were never gods."

And with one fluid motion, despite one mere instance of hesitation, JR had turned around and rammed the tip of the katana right between the eyes of the 4,000 year-old madman.

Save for the sound of the older man withdrawing his blade and sheathing it, plus his footsteps, all was silent. Though half of me still wanted to get up into his face and start reprimanding him for the idiotic stunts he had pulled that nearly killed him, I could only hover and watch. And follow, in hindsight, as after he picked up Sunder and Keening (still wrapped in their protective _tablecloth_), he immediately went straight for the citadel's exit. _Walking_. The entire damn way.

I felt my eye twitch. Could he go _any_ slower?

The older man picked up the glove he had dropped back in the cavern when he revealed Moon-and-Star - I could see the ring clearly for a few moments before he re-donned it. His head lifted towards the doorway, and a smirk formed on his face. Both of us saw a familiar figure standing there.

"Thank you for stopping by, Azura."

Much to my eternal vexation, I blacked out soon after everything went white.

* * *

_Middas, 4th of Sun's Height, 3E426  
Time - 9:00 PM  
Location: Outside Dagoth Ur's Citadel, Red Mountain, Inside the Ghostfence, Vvardenfell_

My eyes opened the familiar sight of a dusk-tinted sky above. _Not_ the ominous blood-red skies that normally surrounded this region.

With a groan, I sat up, holding my head with my eyes closed for a few brief moments before looking around. Admia: AWOL. JR: gone, having done the smart thing and left. Azura: most likely back on her plane of Oblivion.

Me: still stuck outside the frelling citadel. Right next to the lava pit.

...I was gonna frelling _kill_ Azura if I ever got the chance. ...okay, maybe not _kill..._

And as soon as my perception roll noted it, I saw two very familiar items rise up from said lava and float towards me.

Sunder and Keening now hovered in the air right in front of me.

Once again, my eyes narrowed in annoyance. I reached out for Sunder, placing the hammer on an available belt-loop before taking Keening into hand and sheathing it near it, having used Wraithguard to protect myself as I did so. I stood up, turning south towards the city of Vivec. I had a few errands to run now.

And one of them involved beating a certain Karanmer to within an inch of his life. ...or maybe a millimeter. Depended on how pissed I was when I finally caught up with him.

..._If_ I caught up with him.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Chapter 0-7 is likely going to take a while, but I'll get it up ASAP. It's back to Cyrodiil next chapter, involving an argument with oneself (read: _Killian_), a strange wizard's tower in the Jerall Mountains, and the mysterious old mage who lives there...

...oh, and a magical tennis match with the court taking up half the continent.

I'm _trying_ to get to the Main Quest ASAP - _honest!_

_- Kestrel Harper  
_


	7. 0VII: 3E427 Spire

**Summary:** An _Oblivion_ self-insert. What started as a normal school day somehow instead became a nightmarish reality. 17-year old Kimberlyn Harris must now learn to adjust to life as an elf and gain control of her incredibly wild magicka if she's going to survive and, ultimately, save Nirn.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mage's Guild quest/storyline.

**Responses to Reviewers**: (Err…alright, only the one reviewer.)  
_MarcUK__ –_ Yes, it _does_ plague every game-player that writes these sorts of fanfiction, doesn't it? Unfortunately, it's rare that you find self-inserts that are actually good to read; I've been fortunate to find a couple in the _Kingdom Hearts_ section, one of which having evolved to crossovers into other games. Unlike Aodh, who went off and completely skipped most of _Morrowind_'s plotline (he's now in _Tribunal,_ last I checked), Kieran doesn't plan on making any major changes. …Not yet, anyway. Save for some details, both the Mages Guild and the Main Quest storylines are intended to be the same for at least Act 1. Besides, why skip the storyline just to get it over with faster? It's more fun with delays and all manners of hell breaking loose!

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 0 - "Ten Years"  
**_**Chapter 0-7 - 3E427 - "Spire"**

**

* * *

**

_Tirdas, 28th of Second Seed, 3E427  
Time - 11:07 AM  
Location: Outside the Redoran Compound, Vivec, Vvardenfell_

"Stop, thief!"

I groaned, banging my head against a nearby wall. What idiot had gone off and ticked off the Ordinators _this time?_

Upon turning, I caught sight of a familiar black cloak and a face mask, the person wearing them running like the entire Deadlands was on his heels with a bag of loot slung over his shoulder. I watched with an unamused expression on my face as JR rushed by right in front of me, then turned to the Ordinator pursuing him, looking about as ticked off as...well, as ticked off as any guard chasing after a thief, Indoril Helm covering his face or no.

With a deep breath, I sighed, rolling my eyes before hanging my head and pinching the bridge of my nose. '_You just __have__ to be a frellwit, don't you, JR? It __must__ be Tuesday..._'

The sound of a loud _CLANG_, like a sword rebounding off much harder and better quality armor.

"Oh, it's _you!_ How are the kids!"

The Ordinator rolled down the ramp and back out into the walkway. Then a splash a few moments later as he landed right in the middle of the canal.

Apparently, JR had run into _that_ one multiple times before.

Just when I was about to leave, the sound of a familiar female voice shouting out in pain caught my attention, coming from where JR was. Admia's voice, without a doubt. My eyes narrowed.

"Killian."

"I'm on it, I'm on it!" answered my "twin", bursting out from the shadows behind me before quickly turning and running up the ramp.

Seeing as to how JR had managed to eliminate Dagoth Ur, I figured that he would only need Killian for this one. Besides, I had an appointment with Vivec I needed to keep. Had to give him the update on what the frell was likely to happen soon now that it had been a year since said madman in Red Mountain was dead and two other incidents were now incredibly likely to happen.

The way I saw it, I considered it fair exchange for Wraithguard and the training in its use.

* * *

"...and soon after Almalexia bites the dust, the Bloodmoon Prophecy's going to happen faster than most would expect. Three guesses as to who gets involved - the first two don't count."

Vivec chuckled. "Our friend is going to have a busy life, it seems."

"Most likely another understatement of the era," I replied. "By the time he's done in Solstheim, he'll have a strong dislike of immortals. Or should I be saying a Tamriel-sized hatred for them?"

A smirk crossed my face, now fully visible. I actually rather enjoyed these conversations with Vivec - then again, he was the more sociable of the three Tribunal members, from what I could see. Almalexia's circlet had become a permanent accessory now, it seemed - then again, with my rather large phobia of fire in any video-game situation (I blamed Act III of _Diablo II_), I needed anything that could help me resist elements used in an offensive manner that I could get. Wraithguard was also another prominent accessory, having permanently donned my right arm save for more public appearances.

Speaking of Almalexia's circlet...

"Did Almalexia ever inform you of the true significance of that circlet?" Vivec asked off-handedly, gazing out the open door towards the midday skies beyond.

I raised an eyebrow. Well, _that_ was an unusual question... "No - all she rather cryptically said was that I would 'learn in due time,' nothing more. ...Why?"

This time it was Vivec who smirked, chuckling again. "I'll leave our friend to tell you."

Once again, annoyance crossed my face. (I seemed to have a tendency to fall back on this expression a _lot_ nowadays, it seemed.) "Fine. I'll leave you to your cryptic messages - you more than deserve it. I'll just have to beat the answers from Aodh myself, then."

My eyes closed as I lifted my hood over my head. "I had best be off. I'll need to check in with Killian before I return to Cyrodiil and make sure she hasn't killed him yet."

"Leaving so soon?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, time grows short. ...Funny, in hindsight - technically, I have all the time in the world, and yet I'm running out of it." I shrugged before mumbling to myself, "Star stuff, indeed..." With one last bow, I turned towards the door. "Perhaps in time I will return again, Vivec. Presuming I don't get myself killed beforehand."

"I highly doubt that, Kieran Herne," was the only response he gave as I passed through the door leading outside the palace. "I doubt our friend would let that happen..."

I wasn't sure if I heard that last part correctly or not.

* * *

To be honest, I wasn't sure _where_ I was when I caught sight of the rather notable figure in black and red swearing a storm in mostly _Farscape_ terms. All I remembered about the area was that there was a pond nearby and Killian looked about ready to kill something.

...again.

"Did you lose track of him or something?" I asked, approaching my pigtailed Shadow Warrior as she kicked a nearby stone into the pond. I noticed a large number of sharpened sticks nearby, too - a bit suspicious on Killian's part.

"_Yes!_" she hissed in response. "The frelling khan took off just when I was about to demand explanations from him!"

I raised an eyebrow looking at the sharp sticks nearby. "Via _Higurashi_ torture methods?"

"You missed the water torture, too," she said off-handedly. I sent my double a glare. She winced. "...Okay. Maybe a _bit_ far..."

"A _bit?_" I asked, irritation evident in my voice. I also noted two new items nearby - a bow and...was that the spear I thought it was? "And those would be...?"

"Auriel's Bow and the Spear of Bitter Mercy - he said he wanted you to keep 'em before he went off and vanished," she explained in annoyance.

Confusion. "Did he say _why?_"

She shook her head. "No, but I'm assuming some type of peace offering."

I rolled my eyes in response, picking up the bow and spear, twirling the latter in my hands. A smirk crossed my face. How ironic that it was Sheogorath who gave him this thing when it was a Daedric artifact signature of _Hircine..._

"Well, I think it's safe to say that I've finished ensuring what needed to be done here," I noted, turning to a certain pouch on my left side. "Killian, I'm trusting you to act as a go-between for me and JR, alright? And try _not_ to kill him."

"_What!_" she asked, looking like a ten year old who had just been grounded from her favorite television show. "Can't I, please! Just a little!"

"_No!_"

"_Awwh!_ But I really wanna-!"

"What part of '_No_' do you _not_ understand?" I asked with a growl.

Her head hung. "_Fine..._"

A smirk crossed my face as I slung the spear over my shoulder. I gave her a wave. "Be on your best behavior, alright?"

Killian stuck out her tongue as I jumped, flipped, and activated the amulet of flight. I had been here in Morrowind long enough. It was time I returned to Cyrodiil and started working on reinvestigating the situation _there_.

Besides, I only had six years left.

* * *

_Turdas, 5__th__ of Mid-Year, 3E427  
Time – 8:03 AM  
Location: Somewhere near the Valus Mountains, Cheydinhal County, Cyrodiil_

"This is the part where you fall down and _bleed to death!_"

I simply kicked the bandit in the stomach before flipping onto both hands and then launching myself upward, twirling the Spear of Bitter Mercy in my hands before coming with the point down on another fallen bandit. Crossing back into Cheydinhal country had been rather easy, but after landing, I suddenly had every bandit in said county after me. Not like it mattered anymore. I smirked as I turned around, blocking an incoming sword with Wraithguard and a grin.

"Hi! I'm here to grant you your death!" I said cheerfully before kicking him down and then stabbing him in the gut.

The other bandits quickly dropped their weapons and ran like all of Oblivion was after them.

I laughed out loud, leaning against the spear as I grinned upwards at the familiar blue skies of Cyrodiil - home, I began to think now. Stretching, I placed the spear behind me as I began to loot the bodies.

Well, guess I could just lie back and enjoy life while training for the next six years or so. I was going to need all the training I could get after all.

Really, though, I had to wonder what was going on in the rest of the province, though... And besides...

"I _really_ need a house..." I grumbled, eyes half-closing in annoyance as I looked at my piled-up spoils of war.

I didn't know _why_ I was heading north towards Bruma again - I just _was._ Call it a whim or a quirk or whatever, but I had this gut feeling of "go north," so lo and behold, I was heading north. ..._Why_ was I heading north?

...Wait, why hadn't I noticed that tower before?

Said tower caused me to double-take. More like a central tower with a smaller tower jetting out from the wall behind it. I blinked. That looked _way_ too familiar. And it looked like it was just a bit beyond Gnoll Mountain...

Hold on a second, Gnoll Mountain? Then that tower had to be Frostcrag Spire! How in Oblivion did I _not_ see the damn thing before!

Well, in hindsight, that area of the Jeralls was also more-or-less abandoned save for the few bandits and the most-likely-inhabited wizard's tower that was Frostcrag. And come to think of it, since that place was virtually abandoned…

Yeah, I could _try_ to practice my magic there.

* * *

"_As you already noticed your magic is directly linked to your imagination and your instincts in the midst of combat. The problem is separating those survival instincts from your imagination. If you are to live to your true potential, you must learn to consciously tap into your magic."_

Sotha Sil's words from my week at Tel Fyr entered my mind again as I fingered Twin-Moon-and-Triad-Star. Despite all the progress I had made that week, I knew that I was only just barely beginning to control my magicka. Simply thinking of the spell I wanted to cast wasn't going to work – all that resulted in was casting something a lot more powerful than I wanted to cast.

I stopped in my tracks to look up towards the horizon, seeing I had arrived at my destination: Dragonclaw Rock. The boulders honestly looked like the foot of a giant dragon with its talons extended, and facing south. I withdrew my pocket watch, double-checking the time. 9:00 PM – I had been trekking north for most of the day, it seemed. Well, you could only get so far on foot and I _really_ didn't want to fly unless I needed to get somewhere fast.

Besides, I wasn't going to get to sleep anytime soon.

I cupped my hands in front of me as I sat on one of the "claws" of Dragonclaw rock. Despite how Sotha Sil claimed it to be a rather simple exercise, I found it _really_ hard to work with.

"_Varlaismer like us are deeply connected to the stars – the light of Aetherius itself. Imagine in your hand a tiny star, no larger than a small pebble. Then let your own magicka stream begin to flow to your hand, but slowly – too fast and you'll backfire."_

Therein was the problem. Focus and I never did much mix, especially with how I hadn't been able to take my ADD medications for four years. I had to at least _try_ though.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, fading into view was a small orb of dim blue-tinted light. I kept my eyes on the orb, feeling my internal magic swirl in the bowl my hands had made.

"_Slowly let your magicka flow faster into the orb. Too much too quickly will grow out of control and will burst."_

Only a little at a time, Kimber. The orb began to slowly grow, from the size of a pebble to that of a small stone. Then that of my palm. My entire hand. Almost the size of my head…

Dammit – I was letting it flow too freely. I could already feel the magicka attempting to fly upwards and out of my grasp. I couldn't keep a hold of it. I didn't have control. And… oh, _frell_, that looked too much like a star about ready to go supernova!

I squeezed my eyes shut, lowering my head and holding the orb out away from me with one hand. There was a very loud _BOOM_ as the magicka exploded outward and upward, almost blinding me despite how I was now also trying to shield my eyes with my other arm. The freezing winds that threatened to knock me off my feet didn't help much either, as I had to wonder if I was going to go deaf.

What seemed like an eternity passed before the magicka "burst" (understatement) died down. The wind suddenly stopped, causing me to fall off the claw I was sitting on and onto the ground. I was panting hard, the only sound in the total silence of the area.

Slowly, I began to steady my breathing, keeping my eyes closed. _Frell,_ that was too much at once… I had been stuck in that explosion for not a few seconds but a few _minutes,_ I could feel it.

…oh, great, what was that whistling sound?

I didn't even have time to look up before an incredibly powerful blast of magic knocked me further away from Dragonclaw Rock, only this time with a humongous amount of _heat_ as opposed to cold. That was too powerful for ay ordinary mage to have cast, and I had the vague feeling that it came all the way from…

'_Morrowind,_' I thought, realizing the direction was east – over the rest of the mountains – and then a bit south.'_…I'm gonna __kill 'im__._' I slowly attempted to stand, getting up on one knee before pushing myself the rest of the way upwards. My legs were shaky, almost to the point that I couldn't keep steady enough to stand. I placed my right hand on the nearest tree for support, keeping my eyes closed.

"Well, well… Looks like we got ourselves a lonely one."

…Oh, _dren._

Bandits.

My eyes opened as I turned towards the group that now had me surrounded. Four of 'em; one Nord man in mithril armor with a large silver claymore, a male Breton hedge-wizard in standard mage robes, a Redguard woman in chainmail armor with a silver bow, and a six-foot-something Orc barbarian in Dwarven armor with a silver warhammer.

Normally, I'd be perfectly fine against four bandits, but the magicka burst had left me feeling rather drained. This was unusual, seeing as to how Sotha Sil had said that Varlaismer had such deep magicka reserves that he and I could cast string of powerful spells in succession for hours at length because of the amount of it and how quickly we regenerate it.

I wouldn't be able to use my weapons, save for my throwing knives or my daggers. I just felt too weak at the moment to do that. The leader, the Nord, smirked as I took a slow step back into stance.

"Don't think you'll be able to get away, little girl," he said. "You're miles out from the guard or the watch, not to mention surrounded. Surrender now and we'll make your death a quick one."

_Little girl,_ was I?

Though they couldn't see it, I glared at each of my attackers from beneath my hood. My voice was one of clear irritation. "Dis is your only warning. You'll leave me alone if you know what's good for you, because if you don't, you're going to be sent straight to Mehrunes Dagon."

All four bandits laughed. The Orc spoke. "That's cute! Maybe we'll keep you around long enough to hear you scream before we kill 'ya!"

I glared at the Orc this time, clenching my left hand into a fist as I said in a low but threatening voice, "You'll never get the chance."

Something told me this was about to get ugly. …_Very_ ugly.

The Nord chuckled, readying his hammer. "Get 'er."

'_Dren!_' The two armed bandits charged straight at me, warhammer and claymore at the ready, while I saw the hedge-wizard begin to back up in preparation for a summoning spell, most likely for a scamp or a bear. My eyes narrowed as I felt my own internal temperature begin to plummet.

My eyes closed as I focused on the cold, almost as if I wanted to freeze my own inner organs. I lowered both hands to my sides now that I had steadied my balance, feeling a small breeze begin to circle around my feet. And then, just as the three warriors were about to strike, the wind grew in power, spiraling upwards as I raised my hands above my head, only to slash down and spread my arms out to either side of me.

The sound of freezing gales and icicles colliding with metal filled the air as my attackers had to stop themselves from advancing, now covered in frost, impaled by icicles where they didn't have armor, and clearly not expecting a Frost Nova.

Unfortunately, none of them were actually frozen like Ghola gro-Muzgol back in the Gutted Mine two years ago.

Not like it mattered. I first turned my attention to the hedge-wizard – if he managed to summon anything (which he hadn't yet, the Nova had interrupted whatever he was trying to do), it would be a five on one and I had little stamina to work with. I twisted out of the way of the Orc trying to bring his claymore down on my head, sidestepping and twirling to the left while raising my right hand as if I had a throwing knife in my fingers. I brought it down in the same motion, aiming for the spellcaster, but instead of a silver knife, a giant icicle launched forward instead, striking him in the gut.

I had to duck the swing from a warhammer as I hopped backwards, readying another blast of cold. What happened instead was feeling a dual-tipped arrow pierce my left shoulder, causing me to stumble forward and grab a hold of the wound. I had forgotten about the Redguard with the bow. She fired again as I turned to face her, this time receiving an arrow to my abdomen. The Orc slashed down, creating a huge gash mostly on my right side. I barely managed to move out of the way of the Nords's warhammer as he attempted to knock my head off my shoulders.

'_No… I can't die. Not here. Not now. Not before …!_'

The sound of an ear-piercing scream echoed through the night as everything around me became enveloped in a twister of blinding snow and lightning. I had to cover my ears to stop myself from going deaf, but I already had a headache that made me feel like my skull was going to split open.

I fell to my knees, trying to stay awake, to not get killed. I wanted the bandits to go away and leave me alone, and I wanted this noise to stop before my eardrums burst…!

The wind died down. The screaming stopped soon afterwards. The Redguard, Orc, and Breton hedge-wizard were now in blocks of ice, frozen solid. The Nord was the only one able to attack at all. I could see a sole purplish-white cloud from an instinctually-activated Life Detect coming from him; even if his cohorts thawed out, they weren't ever getting up again.

My gaze lifted from the ground towards the Nord bandit in a tired manner, my hood having been blown off. The man's eyes narrowed as he readied his warhammer, charging straight for me. My hands lowered to my lap before I lifted my right arm, letting my hand dangle in front of me before I spoke one word.

"_Tōketsu._" Freeze.

With a snap of my wrist, a burst of ice and wind issued forth from the palm of my hand. Now frozen solid, the glow of the life detect fading from his form, the Nord bandit-leader had stopped a mere three feet in front of me, weapon raised and his face twisted as if about ready to issue a battle-cry. My vision began to turn to black, and my other senses began to do similar.

Whatever just happened took too much out of me, and I was losing blood, fast. I needed shelter, quickly.

I didn't get farther than five steps back towards Dragonclaw Rock before I fell forward onto the ground, an unconscious mess of bloodstained black and blue against the surrounding snow.

* * *

When I regained consciousness, it was to the feeling of a nice warm bed and the sound of a crackling fire on the other side of a room.

My eyes slowly opened to the sight of a curving wall, a wooded and dark-stained armoire, and a small bedside table on which were my treasured possessions from Earth: my mechanical pencils, my tank top and Tripp pants, my combat boots, my pewter dragon pendant on its black leather cord and the small fire opal on its golden chain, my goggles, and my tarot cards and its pocket-sized book.

For a moment, everything seemed too surreal. I slowly sat up, only to be rudely awakened the rest of the way by pain from my left shoulder and the right side of my abdomen. I let out a small cry of pain before silencing myself, biting my tongue as my right and left arms shot to their corresponding opposite sides' injuries. I felt only bandages covering both injuries. Fortunately, I was still wearing pants, but my entire torso was wrapped in bandages somewhat like a loose but flexible corset, for lack of a better term. Around my neck was Twin-Moon-and-Triad-Star; why it hadn't been removed, I didn't know. Almalexia's circlet sat quietly on the nearby table on my old clothes, which I quickly picked up and returned to its place on my head.

Where was I, what happened, who brought me here, and where in Oblivion were my clothes, weapons, and other necessary possessions! (…Alright, so maybe the crystal ball from Mournhold wasn't exactly _necessary_ for survival…)

Cautiously, I gazed about the rest of the room. There was a writing desk nearby with an open book placed on it, a large cushioned chair with a wooden frame in front of it, and another larger table with every tool needed for alchemy currently next to the fireplace, along with a number of reddish-purple bottles. There were quite a few of these what-I-presumed-to-be-potions on it, but instead of ingredients, I noted bandages and salves. …And crystals.

Actually, there were quite a large number of crystals scattered throughout the room. I could hear each one of them vibrating to a specific sort of magic, most of them I recognized from the school of Restoration. It was strange, but… it somehow put me at ease. Even stranger, their vibrations seemed to mimic that of a soothing melody in my ears.

Taking care to _not_ aggravate my injuries, I slowly climbed out of bed and placed my feet on the cold stone floor. I needed a shirt, dammit. As much as I hated to admit, I didn't think my old tank top would fit. Cautiously, I opened the doors to the armoire.

There were a large number of incredibly fancy outfits inside, along with matching shoes. Whoever had "rescued" me was clearly from the nobility, but from the sight of the alchemy table, it was more than likely a mage who owned this place. Since I didn't have anything else covering me, I grabbed one of the outfits – a blue velvet outfit with blue suede shoes to match. I sighed, hanging my head in a tired manner when I saw precisely how it looked.

Dammit, why is it always _dresses?_

A few minutes later, I had managed to slip on the long-sleeved and somewhat loose article of clothing. I was amazed at how much it flattered my curves, despite how much weight I didn't necessarily have. (After all, I tended to eat very little in the wilderness.) There were no windows that allowed me to check and estimate the time, but I had the vague feeling it was the middle of the night. The mage that brought me here (whoever he/she was) seemed to have made certain I would be comfortable during my stay. I took my tarot deck back into my hands, along with the small booklet. I could try a small reading to see if I could get more information, but where would I be able to place the cards?

My attention now shifted towards writing desk, specifically the book. I tilted my head towards the side in a thoughtful manner before I decided to seat myself in the chair, beginning to read.

_The Varlaismer are the most commonly heard about since the tales of their adventures are most memorable, especially among mages. The Star Elves seem to be born of magic, for no explanation for their existence will fit otherwise. They have almost divine amounts of magicka and can cast spells not even known to exist. They are made of magic so thoroughly that they cannot fully gain control of it, which leads to outbursts that can often turn deadly for those around them. Patterns show that these moments tend to occur when the life of the Varlaismer is in danger or the Star Elf is under great stress. Their appearances tend to vary more so than that of the Karanmer, but, more often than not, they are fair and often commented as beautiful._

I wasn't sure whether I was seeing things or not. What book was this? And who wrote it? Was the author still alive; could I make contact with him? How did they know so much about the Varlaismer, even if only a mere paragraph?

"That would be the beginner's introduction to the legends. But I assume you're much more interested in learning about your own kind."

I gave a small gasp, quickly standing and turning around to face the old man who managed to take me by surprise. "Old" didn't even begin to cover his age – I was immediately reminded of Gandalf the Gray (later Gandalf the White) from the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy upon seeing him – straight-combed silvery-white hair reaching his mid-back, along with a matching goatee and moustache that came down to his mid-chest (I say goatee because the "beard" portion did not actually reach his sideburns). The only reason I could tell where the beard ended was because of the lack of a quilted pattern on his rather rare white mage robes, with which he wore the matching shoes. His eyes were a faded and seemingly dull blue-gray color, but I could see a twinkle of knowledge, wisdom, and the small but easily-visible glint of mischief. His eyes were rounded and the great sense of magicka around him (a powerful but calm river compared to my ever-chaotic stormy aura) clearly indicated this man to be a Breton. I opened my mouth to ask him who he was and where he brought me when…

BANG!

My mouth closed as I looked upwards. I glared at the four cards that were now gently floating down three-quarters of the way up to the high ceiling I hadn't noticed before. I held up my index finger with my left hand to signal I needed a moment before shifting my deck to that hand reaching upwards towards the cards with the other. All four immediately zoomed to my grasp like arrows, which I caught as if they were a Frisbee of some sort. I now looked at them.

The Magician. The Hermit. Strength. The Tower.

A mage of great power, isolated from most of the rest of the world. As for the tower, either that meant this encounter was not going to end well, or…

"Would this place be…Frostcrag Spire?" I asked, looking up from my cards to the old man.

He gave a small smile as he nodded. "That would be correct. My name is Myrddin – the architect and master of this fine tower. And judging from the possessions I had left at your bedside, you are also from the same realm as John, are you not?"

My eyes widened. "JR was here?"

"For a time," he answered with a nod. "He had entered Cyrodiil through the mountain pass nearby, seeking a cure for his vampirism. I already had a few potions of the cure kept in reserve in case of the possibility of a young adventurer seeking the cure as he was. He stayed for some time to let his injuries heal – magic can only do so much and John's knack for spell absorption did little to help. You, on the other hand, have a better knack for spell _reflection_, but I most certainly do not need the healing."

Ah, that explained a bit, both as to why JR was in Cyrodiil in the first place _and_ as to why I woke up covered in bandages.

"As for how you got here, I found you unconscious and bleeding heavily near the road leading to my Spire. I had been just returning from the Bruma Mage's Guild Hall when I found you. For a Varlaismer, I imagined you to be a bit taller, to be honest."

I let out a small groan as I rolled my eyes, soon hanging my head and pinching the bridge of my nose. "I know, I know – I'm _short_, I get that a lot! Even most _Bosmer_ are taller than I am, I know!"

"I will not inquire about the frozen bandits that you were surrounded by, however; I'm presuming you had lost control over your magicka and they met their fates that way."

"Erm… Only after I lost control of it once and I had a fireball launched at me that blasted me there." I lifted my head, blinking a few times before giving a rather sheepish smile. "On a somewhat related note, if I may step outside really quickly…?"

He gave a small nod, motioning towards the door. I quickly walked through and out into the chill evening mountain air. I didn't pay attention to how the walkway had no means of preventing me from falling over the edge, but I instead closed my eyes, turning eastward, and concentrated on an image of my target. I held out my left hand, letting a small orb of bluish-white light form at the end of it. I gave a small flick of my finger as if pressing a key on a piano, then drew my arm back and then launched the magicka orb outward as if pitching a baseball. My eyes opened as I gazed at the quickly-flying spell, a mischievous grin forming on my face.

"My point," I said, taking in a deep breath before returning to the room behind me. Myrddin raised an eyebrow, silently inquiring as to what I was so happy about.

I gave a small chuckle. "I had a feeling as to who launched the fireball; I figured I needed to return the favor."

Myrddin chuckled in response. "Ah, young rivalry. I can see your predicament quickly becoming a game to the both of you. And your name is, Miss…?"

I smiled. I didn't know if it was because of the stress relief of sending that Magic Missile spell or because of the "singing" crystals throughout the room, but I was definitely much more relaxed around this man now. Though it certainly didn't explain as to why I responded similarly to Admia when she first introduced herself to me.

"Kieran Herne, Varlaismer of the Tower." I folded my hands in front of me before bowing. "And my sincerest thanks for taking care of my injuries."

"Your welcome, Miss Herne," he answered with a smile. Though he didn't voice it like Sotha Sil had done when I first met him, I was pretty sure he could tell that it wasn't my original birth-name. "Your injuries are severe enough that you won't be able to do much for a few weeks, but you are welcome to explore Frostcrag Spire and its many resources. And judging from how you are recovering from _two_ magicka backfires in one day on top of it all, I would be honored to assist you in teaching you what I know."

Despite the feeling of déjà vu, I was very much relieved.

* * *

_Loredas, 9__th__ of Last Seed, 3E427  
Time – 5:03 PM  
Location: Frostcrag Spire, Jerall Mountains, Cyrodiil_

_It's been rather strange, staying here at Frostcrag._

_Even though I've walked every inch of this Spire, and seen every nook and cranny of it, I'm quite sure Myrddin deliberately made a maze of this place with all the portals._

_My wounds have taken longer to heal than anticipated – I had originally believed that I would be able to take to the road again sometime late Sun's Height, but Myrddin is beginning to wonder if the Orc bandit's claymore had been either enchanted or poisoned and I neither of us realized it until now. As a precaution, Myrddin has also been double-checking the wound on my -_

BANG!

"Oh, for the love of Azura, not _again!_"

I heard Myrddin chuckle from his end of the library as I glared at the four cards that had popped out of my deck. I raised my hand to them as they zoomed to my hand, to which I checked them quickly. High Priestess, Wheel of Fortune, the Star, the World, all of them dignified. I smiled, closing my eyes as I shook my head. I could have sworn the cards had minds of their own sometimes, but that was more than likely just my magicka channeling through them in a small misfire of some sort. It got annoying, certainly, but there were just some days where it was just cute.

Re-inking my quill, I returned to my journal entry, finishing my sentence before continuing on with another paragraph.

_-shoulder, just in case the Redguard's arrows had also been poisoned._

_It's funny, really, how much Myrddin is a lot like a more laid-back and humble version of Grandpa Mel. Unlike Grandpa, though, Myrddin is much more willing to admit when he's wrong and even turns it into a learning experience for both of us. Thanks to his tutoring, I think I've gained some better control over my magicka, although it's still prone to overreact and misfire sometimes._

_I've learned so much about Tamriel simply from the library here. Vanus Galerion must have been an incredibly powerful wizard during his time, though I'm pretty certain he was Altmer. And Mysticism is aptly described as a chaotic school of magic, which would explain how drawn I am to it. Myrddin says I have a particular talent for it and for Destruction, closely followed by Illusion and Alchemy._

_Though I have to wonder about the Alchemy part, as despite having taken (most of) Honors Chemistry, most of my potions tend to explode in my face._

_Myrddin has asked me about my plans for the future. I had to remain vague, but I did inform him of the idea of perhaps joining the Mages Guild when I felt I was ready to begin interaction with others on a regular basis. He believes I would reach the Arcane University within a matter of weeks as opposed to days like any other mage attempting to enter. I also made the off-hand prediction that head of the Anvil Mages Guild, Hannibal Traven, would become Arch-Mage four years from now, but only by a narrow margin due to his stance against Necromancy. To be honest, I think he really has the right idea about it._

_As much as I love this place, I know I'll have to leave soon after my injuries are healed. And it's a shame, too – Myrddin is not only an incredibly talented and powerful wizard, but also a brilliant architect and designer. Frostcrag's become home for me, just like how Myrddin's like a god-grandfather in my eyes, and it would be a shame to leave her. He's noted how much I've fallen in love with his crystal collection, and he's letting me practice tuning my magic in the Crystal Display Room._

_I do, however, need to work on my spreads, seeing as to how my cards decided to rather rudely interrupt me in the middle of a sentence earlier in this entry (around the word 'shoulder'). I've got the Celtic Cross down rather well, but I still need to practice the Alchemists' Star and Druid's Star._

_Though I have to wonder why Myrddin asked to see my cards earlier this week. He's got something planned, I can tell by that mischievous glint in his eye. He might be old…but he's still an imp. Then again, I tend to be one, too._

_And JR is __still__ adamant about playing international magicka tennis. We're still at deuce, but we're now varying the "tennis balls" we keep sending. I figured he might find the Lightning Orbs interesting to launch back._

Setting the parchment to the side, I turned to my cards and folded my hands in front of me with my elbows on the table. With a short, tired sigh but with a smile on my face, I fetched out the Queen of Swords before beginning to shuffle.

I still had six more years left.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** *le thwump* FINALLY! This chapter's been taking for-frelling-ever to get done! Chapters 0-1 through 0-6 were done a long time ago, and then I encountered this damn _block._ Now, however, the story can get moving! (Note to self: post up stuff on FFN more often – it actually motivates you to get things done.)

Next Chapter: Not a frelling clue. We'll know when I put it up, though, now, won't we?

- _Kestrel Harper_


	8. 0VIII: 3E433 Stage

**Summary:** An _Oblivion_ self-insert. What started as a normal school day somehow instead became a nightmarish reality. 17-year old Kimberlyn Harris must now learn to adjust to life as an elf and gain control of her incredibly wild magicka if she's going to survive and, ultimately, save Nirn.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mage's Guild quest/storyline.

* * *

_**Edgedancer****  
**_**Act 0 - "Ten Years"**_**  
**__Chapter 0-8 - 3E433 - "Stage"_

**

* * *

**

_Middas, 26th of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 2:16 AM  
Location: Outside Entrance to Imperial Prison Sewers, Lake Rumare, Heartlands, Cyrodiil_

"Do _all_ of your people talk in their sleep?"

I sent the currently blonde-haired Bosmer in black an evil glare as I reached for my journal again. Admia simply kept it out of reach as I replied. "So I'm presuming Aodh does as well?"

"Quite often," she said, still keeping it above her head as I jumped to try and reach it. Still no dice. "Most of the time in Daedric, though. Though, I must ask: what is a 'Kaijuu' and why in Nirn did you seem so incredibly annoyed with one?"

I had to stop moving towards my journal in order to facepalm. "A 'kaijuu,' Admia, directly translates to 'monster' in English (or Cyrodiilic, seeing as to how they're the same, from what I've noticed), and it is a pet name for my younger brother. ...Who's 23 now, _damn._" I lifted my gaze from the black-haired Dunmer in front of me towards the Ayleid ruin of Vilverin across the channel. "I have no idea how much he'll have changed... if at all."

Admia raised an eyebrow. "I never knew you had a brother."

"I don't talk about him much," I replied, closing my eyes. "He has...developmental issues. He never quite picked up on social cues when he was young. Along with his hyperactivity, his obsessive-compulsive nature, and his (last I checked) almost invisible oppositional-defiant disorder, he was, put bluntly, very annoying. Even though I haven't seen him in 10 years, I still miss him. And the rest of my family. Not that I'll ever see them again."

There was a _reason_ why I didn't stroll down memory lane much anymore. All that was left was silence for a while. Finally, I held out my hand. "Could I have my journal back now, please?"

"Fine." The Altmer red-head returned the parchment back to my hand. "You win. I see you're not in the mood."

"With very good reason," I answered, returning my journal to my belt. "Come tomorrow, all of Oblivion breaks loose. Most likely literally." My eyes opened as I turned back to Admia. "I've told you how much I already know, if I recall... and if I _didn't_ and that's just me hallucinating, I'm quite certain my _journal_ should have given you the clues - how much did you _read_ of it, anyway?"

"Mmm... Not much." She shrugged. "A few entries, maybe half."

Cue eye roll of annoyance. "Well, my _apologies_ if it wasn't the next great Imperial classic. I've had little else to do."

Like she was going to leave. "Really, Kieran, what is it? You've been in a rather foul mood ever since I've been trailing you from Bruma; what happened?"

My lips thinned before I turned away. "Myrrdin passed away five days ago. I had taken it upon myself to take care of him; he was practically my grandfather, Admia. In my own way, I'm still grieving. Heavily. He taught me so much for the past six years, and now..." I trailed off, remaining silent for a moment before shaking my head. "As much as I would _like_ the time to grieve, that is something I no longer have. There is less than 24 hours before the damn cult strikes. If I'm going to change anything, I need to set the stage _now._" With a tired sigh, I turned back to her. "And thank you for the wake-up alarm, by the way - I don't think I'm going to get any more sleep tonight."

"You barely get any sleep at all, last I checked," she replied. "By the way... Don't be surprised if you get some unexpected help this week. See you later!"

With that said, the Graviamer vanished from sight before I could ask what she meant by "unexpected help." I sighed in slight annoyance, grabbing my pack before turning towards the unlocked gate leading to the sewers beneath the prison.

Time to set the stage, indeed.

* * *

Goblins. Rats. _Zombies._ If there was _anything_ in this entire damn universe that I hated most, it _had_ to be zombies. There was only one roaming around the area when I managed to reach the Imperial Substructure, but I had developed such a hatred for them...!

I took a deep breath before sighing, now instead roasting another rat with a fireball as I entered the small room with the well. I was now officially in the Imperial City Prison - nobody quite knew it yet. I quickly caught sight of the other two rats that would burst through the wall in the tutorial. Though they served (in a sense) to knock down the segment of wall once the Emperor and his Blades left the player behind, I had more than enough magicka to do that myself.

With an off-handed wave, I sent a blast of chain lightning at them both. The smell of ozone and electrical fire began to slowly fill the room afterwards.

My eyes fell on the crate near the well, which had a number of torches and a club inside. Another sigh. As much as I hated it, I would have to remove all my equipment and change into something more "casual," for lack of a better term. I'd already cleared out the sewers of the annoyances that would block my way to the Emperor in the Subterrane the next morning - after that, it was officially the start of _Oblivion_. ...and the possible end of the world if I didn't get this job done _right._

An hour later, I had changed into a dark green shirt and a pair of laced leather pants with a pair of braided leather sandals on my feet. My armor, weapons, potions, and other necessary gear had now been placed in the crate by the well, and sealed via a special spell I had created that only reacted to a certain individual's use of magicka: mine.

One hard look at the crate and a nod later, I began to sprint out of the secret escape route and the detour through it.

My time was just about out.

* * *

_The school of illusion is mastering the art of knowing what's real and isn't real. It is how you create light without a torch, how to conceal yourself from the eyes of the enemy, how to charm others into believing what you tell them to, and how to utterly change the morale of your allies or your enemies. This is the school that will teach you how to defeat your opponents without unnecessary violence. Use it wisely, young mage, lest you find yourself imprisoned or hunted down for misdeeds through abuse of this school._

And, unfortunately, the "imprisoned" part of that little paragraph was precisely what I wanted to have happen.

"...Who are you and what in Oblivion have you done with Kieran?"

Killian placed a hand on my forehead, and then my cheek before I slapped said hand out of the way, glaring at her in the darkness of the sewers' exit. "I _told you_, Killian - I need to get placed in the prison before midnight tonight else we're _all_ doomed. You're me, I'm you, all you have to do is wear the same clothes, keep your hood _up_, and then do what you normally do."

"And that is...?"

"Be a sneaky hazmot and steal something or, very lightly and with _hands only_ (no wrist blades!), assault someone in front of a guard. Or even one of the guards, especially that corrupt captain Audens Avidius, because he _will_ attempt to arrest you. After that, you run back towards me and then let me cast you somewhere out of the way, which will change you back to your normal appearance, and then have them arrest me. Better yet, act like _you_ pretend to capture _me_ and then hand me over to the Guard."

The Shadow Warrior that was my "twin sister" blinked, confused. "You're _insane._"

"This is news?"

"Completely _out of your mind._"

"That's because it's dark and scary in there."

"_Magra-fahrbot._"

"If I wasn't, this probably would never work."

She sighed, facepalming. "Alright! _Alright._ I'll pretend to be you. When and where do you want this done?"

I nodded. "Five o'clock this evening, Market District. Locate a patrolling guard or possible target within a guardsman's view near the Feed Bag, go through with the plan, then run towards the door between the Imperial Chamber of Commerce and the Best Defense. I'll cast you in the doorway between Divine Elegance and the Mystic Emporium, I'll start running, and then you capture me. Got it?"

"_Yes._ But I had better get some _good fights_ in Kvatch's Gate - otherwise, you _so_ owe me for this one."

"Would 'escort mission' qualify if I stay out of most of the daedra's sight?"

"Escort? Who?"

"Menien. He'll be the one who've been captured - you know me and leaving people behind."

"Alright, but only if I have some armor and a weapon ready for him once I get him out."

"Full chainmail and a silver longsword; I'll pass it on to you once I get through the gate and summon you."

"Deal!"

* * *

_Middas, 26th of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 4:47 PM  
Location: Imperial City Market District, Lake Rumare, Heartlands, Cyrodiil_

"...Alright, we're almost fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, but at this point, I don't give a damn. Do it now?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Hope this plan of yours _works_, Kieran."

And the Shadow Warrior began to walk into the open as I cast invisibility on myself.

To be honest, I hoped this plan worked, too.

A few moments of silence. Then...

"Help! Help! Assault!"

Killian, still in disguise, ran right through the first door. As soon as she neared the archway I hid beneath, I recast her, dropping the invisibility and causing her to reappear as she normally did in the other archway between Divine Elegance and the Mystic Emporium. I dashed forward, acting as if I was fleeing from the guards as they attempted to find me.

Right out in the open as I tried to disappear between Edgar's Discount Spells and Rindir's Staves, Killian tackled me to the ground and quickly apprehended me.

"Well done, ma'am," said the guardsman to my shadow as another one lifted me off the ground, keeping my hands held behind my back. "You have our thanks."

"'Twas nothing, sir," my "twin" said with a flirtatious smirk. I had to shoot her a real glare at that one.

I simply tuned out the guardsmen's "YOU HAVE VIOLATED THE LAW" speech as I was forced to move towards the Imperial City Prison, removing my hood in order to get a better look at me. I had used another illusion spell to hide the true color of my eyes (they appeared a dark brown now) and the rest of my markings. None of them noticed the smirk hidden behind my bangs as we entered the compound.

* * *

_Middas, 26th of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 5:03 PM  
Location: Imperial City Prison, Lake Rumare, Heartlands, Cyrodiil_

"Ahh!"

I skid across the dirt floor of the prison cell I had been placed in - first one on the left coming down from the office upstairs. Just the one I wanted. My clothing had been removed and I had been given an entirely different wardrobe: sack cloth shirt, pants, and a new pair of braided sandals. What completed the look of "convict" were the pair of wrist irons around said wrists. I pushed myself up from off the ground, shooting the guardsman a glare. Did they _have_ to be so rough?

"And _don't_ expect to get out for another three days, lawbreaker," he growled before shutting the door, placing the key in the lock before turning it. I glared at him as he vanished back up the stairs and into the main area of the Imperial City Prison's Bastion.

As soon as I could tell he was gone, I gave a small nod, standing up and dusting myself off before seating myself on the small chair by the table off to the side, leaning against the wall with my arms folded.

The smiles and games were over now.

Come one tomorrow morning, Nirn would face the threat of Oblivion.

* * *

_**End Act 0 - "Ten Years"**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Author's Notes:** I finally went "screw it – let's get on with the show." I spent most of Saturday planning out the _entire rest of the story_. Now it's just time to write it all down. *looks at word-count* And wow. This is the shortest chapter of the entire thing. Who'da thunk?

Next Chapter: A certain individual who loves to drive people insane, a total jerk of a Dunmer who thinks he's all that, and the opening of _the Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion._ So begins Act 1 (yes, the actual first act!) of Edgedancer.

_- Kestrel Harper_


	9. 1IX: 27 Last Seed  Circle

**Summary:** For 10 years, she prepared. Now Kieran Herne, a human from Earth turned into an elven warrior, must race against time to find the heir to the Empire and restore him to the throne, else all of Tamriel – and Nirn – perish.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mages Guild quest/storyline.

* * *

_I was born 87 years ago. For 65 years, I ruled as Tamriel's emperor. But for all these years, I've never been the ruler of my own dreams._

_I have seen the gates of Oblivion, beyond which no waking eye may see. Behold - in darkness, a doom sweeps the land._

_This is the 27th of Last Seed, the year of Akatosh 433. These are the closing days of the third era... and the final hours of my life._

- Opening Narration by Emperor Uriel Septim VII, _The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion_

_

* * *

_

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 1 - "Ending Beginning"**_**  
****Chapter 1-9 - 27 Last Seed - "Circle"**

**

* * *

**

_Turdas, 27th of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 12:03 AM_

"Put the convict in here."

The sound of a cell door - namely the cell next to mine - reached my ears as my eyes opened. I had gotten as much rest as I could for the moment, and for some strange reason (most likely my attention deficiency) I had to notice _everything_ that was going on around me. The sound of a body hitting the floor, and then the door closing. A sigh, and then male voice, British accent, _incredibly_ familiar and _incredibly_ sarcastic in tone.

"What? No bible or other reading material? What kind of prison _is_ this?"

"Hold your tongue criminal."

Another sigh. And then in a cocky manner: "Fine, fine, you win this round."

The only other sound that followed this bit was the rather loud SMACK of my hand becoming quickly reacquainted with my forehead.

Sometimes, I had to wonder what the hell goes through Aodh's head when he pulls these sorts of stunts.

Half an hour later, a male voice coming from the cell in front of me and to my left spoke, breaking the consistent sound of Aodh on a ramble. "Do you _ever_ shut up?"

You could _hear_ the Karanmer's smirk when he replied. "No, not while I'm awake."

And the annoying rambling continued on.

* * *

_Turdas, 27th of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 12:43 AM  
Location: Imperial City Prison, Lake Rumare, Heartlands, Cyrodiil_

_"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts (tweedle le-dee dee)_  
_There the are a-standing in a row (two, three, four)_  
_Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head..."_

I groaned, clutching onto my ears as another inmate spoke up, rather irritated. "Would you _stop singing that song!_ Stupid elf..."

A maniacal laugh, and then, in an annoying tone of voice:

_"It's a small world after all-!"_

Another inmate groaned this time, coming from Aodh's cell. "What did we do to get the _crazy elf_ in here with us?"

The singing stopped as Aodh quickly changed to speaking...

"Oh, be quiet, I'll be out of here in a moment."

...to yet another song that just made me cringe.

_"My cellmate things I'm sexy,  
I really turn him on,  
He's always staring at me  
While the shower is on."_

Thank the Nine he kept it mercifully _short_ before Aodh's maniacal laugh reached my ears. "Well, my bail's just been posted, so I'm outta here, ladies and gents! 'Tis been nice knowing you all." Footsteps towards the cell door... "Locksmith." ...and then said cell door swinging open before closing. "Hi ho, Silver, _away!_"

Cue scatting the William Tell Overture. I watched as the white-skinned, dark-haired elf that was my best friend Aodh Ailill walk right past my cell and then vanishing upstairs. I rolled my eyes, gazing upwards and shaking my head. From the cell further down the hall on my side of the complex, another inmate spoke.

"Hope he isn't _contagious..._"

For the love of Azura, _why_ did he have to try and annoy everyone he met to the Shivering Isles and back?

* * *

_Turdas, 27th of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 1:00 AM  
Location: Imperial City Prison, Lake Rumare, Heartlands, Cyrodiil_

Today, come sunrise, was supposed to be Harvest's End.

Instead, something _else_ would end today.

I lifted my starburst-blue, green, and yellow eyes from my feet towards the cell door. It was almost time, I could feel it. With my arms folded, I approached my cell door, peering through the opening towards the staircase leading back up towards the Prison Bastion.

"Longer, slender ears... Unusual tattoos... Rather _short_ for any elf..."

My eyes narrowed in annoyance as I turned to the cell door in front of me. He wore the same prison outfit I did, but I recognized the voice anywhere. It belonged to a red-eyed Dunmer with slicked-back silver hair with a rather large and noticeable widow's peak and only half a head of hair left.

Valen Dreth studied my figure with an expression of bewilderment and total confusion. "Just what in Oblivion _are you?_"

I didn't answer, instead staring him down. There was silence for a while before he smirked. "Silent type, I see. I bet you think you're pretty tough, huh? Go ahead - prove you're stronger than any Orc and tear down those bears, or more powerful than any Breton and make them disappear. Or can you even do _that?_"

There was a good reason why some people who played the game based on what was about to happen would join the Dark Brotherhood _just to kill this guy._

"You're Mer, for certain, but not any type I've seen. Shorter than a Bosmer, paler than an Altmer, perhaps prouder than any of my people. You're not like others here. That will only make the guard want to keep you even _longer._" The Dunmer's lips began to curve into a wicked smirk. "Because even we _normal_ folk don't ever get to leave this prison alive. No matter what the law says. No matter what they told you.

"You're going to die in here, _freak_. You're going to _die!_"

My head lowered, but my gaze didn't. I slowly moved my right hand, ready to cast a rather long-lasting silence spell on him. It would give _everyone_ a break.

Footsteps from upstairs, multiple sets. My head shifted towards the top of what I could see. Valen's head turned as well, confusion evident on his face for a moment before it changed to a wicked grin.

"Hey, you hear that?" he asked, turning back to me again. I shot him a glare as he finished his little "welcoming" speech. "The guards are coming...for you!" And with one evil and unusual cackle, he retreated to the back of his cell, hiding in the darkness. Not that I needed to pay attention to him anymore.

"Baurus, lock that door behind us!"

"Yessir."

Still identified as "sir" despite how the first voice was definitely female - I slowly backed up from the door closer towards the chains hanging, rusted and unused behind me.

Time had just about run out.

"My sons...they're dead, aren't they?"

"We don't _know that_, sire. The messenger only said they were attacked."

The familiar voice of Emperor Uriel Septim VII hadn't changed much since when I last heard him speak eight years ago. He _still_ sounded too eerily close to Patrick Stewart. His conversation was clearly with the female Captain of the Blades he was accompanied by.

"No, they're dead." His voice was grim. "I know it."

"My job right now is to get you to safety."

Four figures now came into view - the familiar form of Emperor Uriel Septim VII, who now looked even more weary and paler than I last saw him - and three others, two males (the Redguard Baurus and an Imperial, respectively) and a female Breton carrying a torch, all wearing the same exact set of ornate heavy armor signature of the Blades - the Emperor's bodyguards.

Emperor Uriel, gazing about in the torch-light, now seemed to notice where he was. "I know this place... The prison?"

However, the question was treated as non-sequitur, as the lady known as Captain Renault now noticed me standing near the door. A look of anger was clearly evident on her face before she turned towards her companions, Baurus and the Imperial known as Glenroy respectively, glaring mainly at the latter. "What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be _off-limits!_"

Glenroy, though mostly hidden behind his captain and the Emperor, took a step back, cringing in humiliation. "U-Usual mix-up with the Watch! I-!"

"Nevermind, get that gate open." The woman now turned towards me, barking an immediate order. "Stand back, prisoner! We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

"You! Prisoner! Stand aside. Over by the window," Glenroy barked, motioning towards the window in the back of the room. I shot him a look that clearly translated to "You don't have to be so _rude_ about it," as I held up both my hands in surrender, doing as asked. Baurus kept his gaze locked on the door upstairs as I moved. As soon as I was by the window (and more or less in the shadows so no one else could quite see my face), Glenroy withdrew the keys to open the cell door. The Imperial was the first to enter, standing in front of me as the Captain, the Emperor, and Baurus began to filter through the doorway with an order, similar to one given to a dog, of "_Stay put_, prisoner."

I heard Baurus address the captain.

"No sign of pursuit, sir."

"Good. Let's go. We're not out of this yet."

'_No, you aren't,_' I thought in response. '_You're just hopping out of the frying pan and straight into the raging inferno blazing through town._' Renault quickly moved towards the brick wall that had a rather worn-out bedroll on it. The Emperor's gaze turned towards me. His eyes widened, causing Renault to stop upon hearing his words.

"You... I've _seen_ you."

My lips thinned as the Emperor moved towards me, ignoring Glenroy's attempt to try and keep him away from me. I was, after all, a prisoner, and therefore liable to do wrong towards the Emperor in the Blade's eyes. '_Here goes..._'

"Let me see your face," said Emperor Uriel, looking at me. "The shadows do enough to keep much of it concealed."

With genuine nervousness, I bit my lip, moving into the moonlight that now filtered through the window. I had only grown a couple of inches since I last saw the Emperor eight years ago, and he hadn't entirely seen my face save for my jaw and perhaps my eyes (I honestly wasn't sure), but that didn't mean he didn't recognize me from somewhere else; his grim expression said it all.

"You are the one from my dreams..." he noted. His gaze now turned towards the window, gazing out towards the sky. "Then the stars were right...and _this_ is the day." His eyes closed as he gave a single nod with a short prayer. "Gods give me strength."

I really, really, _really_ didn't want to use my Romanian Gypsy, but I knew I had to speak here, even if only to play dumb. When I spoke, what I intended to be more British instead came out...Scottish. "Wh-what's going on?"

Despite the situation, the old ruler smiled, turning back towards me with pale blue eyes opened. "Assassins attacked my sons, and I am next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through _your _cell."

Yeah, by chance, coincidence..._NOT._

"Who are you?"

"I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler." His smile was one of genuine kindness and caring. "You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way."

Nervously, I gazed about. This was only because it was the mandatory question before anything else could happen. "Why am I in jail?"

The Emperor's smile never faded. "Perhaps the Gods have placed you here so that we may meet. As for what you have done…it does not matter." He closed his eyes, shaking his head before turning back to me. "_That_...is not what you will be remembered for."

My eyes closed as I turned towards my left, but remained nonthreatening.

"I go my own way," I answered honestly. I was here by choice, because if I didn't take this on, it was unlikely anyone else would. ...Except for Aodh, but he was a walking, talking, ticking time bomb for anything as it was and he had absolutely _no_ respect for the Emperor, unlike me.

"So do we all," replied the Emperor, smiling slightly and then giving a small nod. My eyes opened and I turned to face him again as he asked one last question. "But what path can be avoided whose end is fixed by the almighty Gods?"

Renault, however, just about had enough, moving towards the wall again. "_Please_, sire, we _must_ keep _moving._"

She pulled on a hidden lever that I hadn't been able to spot before. The sound of cranking gears was heard from the inside of the walls as the stone slab with my "bed" and the back of the wall moved down and outwards, respectively. Beyond was a dark stone passageway, seemingly of granite or some similarly-colored stone, with an actual paved hallway beyond it. Renault stepped through, closely followed by the Emperor and Glenroy as she spoke. "Better not close this one. There's no way to open it from the other side."

Baurus now moved towards the passage entrance himself, turning to me with a friendly smirk. "Looks like today is your lucky day. Just stay out of our way."

'_A __bit__ hard,_' I thought as I saw the last of the Blades enter the passage. I turned towards Valen's cell, where the Dunmer now stood with his mouth wide open in shock. I smirked, raising my hand before giving a wave with my fingers. I spoke with my Romanian Gypsy accent again, loud enough for the Dunmer to hear but not for the Blades and the Emperor to recognize it.

"Karma's a pain in the backside, now, isn't it?" I asked with a small giggle. And with that, I moved into the corridor, sprinting to catch up with the quartet in front of me.

* * *

Err...make that trio.

I arrived right behind Emperor Uriel as I heard the Captain give a small groan of pain before her body hit the floor. Glenroy and Baurus were currently fighting against three red-garbed assassins in what appeared to be conjured Daedric armor; the fourth had now murdered Renault and was beginning to move towards the Emperor. My eyes narrowed.

'_Not on __my__ watch._'

My running footsteps were rather quiet as I rushed down the hallway and then leapt right over Emperor Uriel, kicking the assassin in the sternum and then sandwiching him between my foot and the stone floor beneath us. There was a loud CRACK as his skull split open. Before he could do anything else, I had jumped away from him grabbed the steel shortsword on the dead Captain's belt, and then stabbed the assassin in the gut shortly after I heard the other three assassins fall. I glared at the corpse before cleaning the blade with his robes. I heard the Baurus and Glenroy move past me before speaking.

"Are you alright, sire?" Baurus inquired. "We're clear for now."

"Captain Renault?" asked the Emperor, looking up at Baurus before turning to me as I moved to double-check the Captain for a pulse or breathing. Nothing. A saddened look appeared on my face, to which I turned back towards him and closed my eyes, shaking my head.

"She's dead." Baurus clearly learned stoicism well, because I could just barely hear the tinge of empathy in his voice. "I'm sorry, sire...but we have to keep moving."

The three men moved to the other side of the staircase as I took the sheath for the shortsword off the Captain's belt and placed it onto mine...along with her Akaviri katana, which I kept hidden behind me. The other assassins virtually had nothing else of interest. Besides, time was of the essence.

"How could they be waiting for us _here?_" Glenroy hissed as he led the party across the room.

"Don't know, but it's too late to go back now," said Baurus before he turned to the Emperor. "Don't worry, sire. We _will_ get you out of here."

"They won't be the first to underestimate the Blades," growled the Imperial, who was most likely the higher ranked of the two as I approached. He nodded towards his companion and charge. "I'll take point. Let's move!"

The iron gate behind him was then opened. Glenroy went through the wooden door first, then Emperor Uriel. Baurus turned to me as I approached, opening my mouth as I attempted to speak, only to be cut off.

"You stay here, prisoner. Don't try to follow us."

My mouth closed as annoyance crossed my face. Baurus passed through the iron gate and then the wooden door beyond it. I heard it lock soon after it closed. For a few moments, there was silence. I spoke. Screw the undercover bit - they were going to recognize me as the psycho summoner from eight years ago eventually.

"_'You stay here, prisoner. Don't try to follow-'_ Oh, _please_, you couldn't stop me even if you _tried._" I said to no one in particular. "Well, Killian? You ready?"

I heard a giggle from behind me as my pigtailed "twin" in a mix of heavy and light armor with a black tunic and greaves came up from behind me, her crimson cape swaying behind her slightly as she approached. "Seriously - since when am I _not?_ It's about time I got to show them how a _true_ Shadow Warrior can end their lives!"

Killian grinned as I turned and walked towards the small section of wall with a small hint of light coming through the cracks. With one fire-enchanted and reinforced punch, I knocked the section of wall down, revealing a dirt-covered room with a well and a skeleton near a chest. Right by the well was a crate, notably sealed and enchanted not to open until the right signature was used. I smirked.

A snap of my fingers caused the lid to blast upwards and spin before landing behind the well.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, I was no longer in sack-cloth, but in something much more suitable for fighting. My armor was still in prime condition, none of the fabric of the overskirt or the reinforced upper Chinese blouse had ripped, I had a full quiver of arrows, and plenty of throwing knives. Killian and I had already rushed through the entire Substructure and the Natural Caverns beyond. We now stood in the shadows in an alcove above the main corridor, where Baurus and Glenroy, escorting the Emperor, could be heard talking.

"We should find a defensible spot and protect the Emperor until help arrives," said Glenroy, dead-set on the idea. Baurus shot him a look.

"_Help?_" he demanded. "What makes you think help will get here before more of those bastards?" I turned to Killian as I lifted my hood to hide my face, giving her a quiet nod as I lifted my right arm and crossed it in front of me; the Shadow Warrior drew her arm back, ready to target and launch what would be a rather deadly horde of spinning projectiles. "We need to get the Emperor _out of here!_"

"_Here they come again!_" Glenroy shouted suddenly, rushing towards the doorway the Emperor was close to. Baurus did the same, fighting alongside his companion. Neither of them saw the red-robed figure attempting to towards the Emperor from the alcove on the other side of the room from us.

Killian and I launched our weapons, Killian thrusting her palm out to launch about half a dozen silver throwing stars whereas I had waved my hand outwards to send a rather sizable icicle straight for him. The assassin was in midair when both attacks hit. He hit the ground, bunched up in a corner and notably dead, just as Baurus and Glenroy finished with the other two or three assassins in the corridor beyond. The Blades sheathed their weapons as Killian and I remained in the shadows, Baurus beginning to slowly move forward.

"I _think_ that was all of 'em," he said, beginning to move about the permitter of the room. "Let me take a look around."

Emperor Uriel turned towards Baurus, concern on his face. "Have you seen the prisoner?"

"Do you think she followed us?" the Redguard asked, turning towards the Emperor. "How could she?"

The old Imperial's gaze shifted from Baurus to the alcove Killian and I remained hidden in before speaking, looking straight at where I was standing. "I _know_ she did."

I was silent for a moment as Killian turned towards me with folded arms, shooting me a look of silent annoyance. Glenroy's voice then spoke.

"Sire, we have to go _now._"

"Not yet. Let me rest a moment longer."

Killian rolled her eyes before whispering to me, "Fine. If you don't do it, I _will._"

I opened my mouth to stop her, but it was too late - she had already jumped down onto the main floor, catching the attention of Baurus and Glenroy. She giggled, specifically waving at Glenroy, who pointed straight at her.

"_You!_ You're the weird monk-girl from eight years ago!"

Hm. Glenroy must've arrived at the party _after_ I fled the room back then.

"But that's not the prisoner..." started Baurus, reaching for his katana.

"She's not," I said in my normal accent, causing the attention of the three men to turn towards me as I jumped down from the ledge. I lifted my hood, lowering it and looking both Blades straight in the eye. "I am."

"Dammit! It's that prisoner again!" Glenroy said, drawing his sword before moving towards me. "Kill her! She might be working with the assassins!"

The Emperor, however, spoke, raising his hand as a signal to stop advancing. "No, she is not one of them. She can help us. She _must_ help us."

Glenroy turned towards the Emperor, looking at him as if he had suddenly grown three heads. My eyes narrowed as I made one last comment. "And if you want additional proof, I would check the red-robed corpse in the corner _behind you_."

Both Baurus and Glenroy blinked, turning behind them before jumping at the sight of the dead figure in the same exact robes as the other assassins. Glenroy finally sheathed his sword, nodding. "As you wish, sire."

I moved forward down the stairs as the Emperor approached me, whereas Baurus and Killian looked at each other and shrugged. The Emperor was definitely world-weary and tired.

"They cannot understand why I trust you. They've not seen what I've seen," he explained. I nodded.

"I am aware. 'Tis the Dragon Blood, sire. I already know what comes."

"And what must be done to stop it," finished the Emperor as I folded my arms. "Listen. You know the Nine? How They guide our fates with an invisible hand?"

My eyes closed as a melancholic and somewhat bitter smile crossed my lips. "With all due respect sire, I tend to not think of it much. The Nine - and the Daedric Princes - have a tendency to work in mysterious ways."

"True," he agreed. "I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder…which sign marked your birth?"

Ah, yes. I knew that question. My smile faded "I was born on the ides of Frostfall, sire, 'neath the sign of the Tower."

He nodded. "The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

"As it will to us all," I noted. I was silent for a few moments before my curiosity got the better of me. Even if I knew the answers, I had to ask... "What about me, then?"

Emperor Uriel shook his head. "Your stars are not mine. Today the Tower shall prove a stout refuge in time of need."

"And my fate?" I lifted my gaze up towards him. Again, he shook his head "no."

"My dreams grant me no opinions of success. Their compass ventures not beyond the doors of death. But in your face, I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied."

I gazed upwards towards the alcove where the final assassin had entered from with eyes narrowed in remembrance. "I made that promise long ago, Your Majesty. To myself, to whatever Lord that watches over me...and to the rest of Tamriel. Mortal I may be, I carry with me the spirit of my nation...a spirit that I will never let die."

I turned to face him again, a saddened expression on my face. "Had fate been more kind, it would have been a great honor to have known you for longer, sire."

He smiled. "I know what you inquire. No trophies of my triumphs proceed me. But I have lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy. Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom, but not the hour. In this I am blessed to see the hour of my death…To face my apportioned fate, then fall."

I nodded, now turning towards the door. "And so you hear a tongue shriller than all the music call your name... A call you must answer."

The smile on the Emperor's face did not wane as he nodded again. "You shall follow me yet for a while, then we must part. But, if I might inquire...?"

"A similar line was written by a famous playwright of my realm nigh 300 years ago... Of an man who the people would not have minded to see dictator, but for whom the possibility of a thirst for power could not be ignored. No one knows for certain if he was or wasn't...but on the ides of First Seed, his doom was sealed. Assassination by conspirators, one of them his best friend. But it was only that friend who did not act out of envy and rivalry, instead believing the death was for the good of their beloved city."

The Emperor remained silent, but nodded again. Simply the summary seemed to interest him, but both of us knew that there was no time. Glenroy caught his attention, motioning for us to continue forward. Baurus now approached me, handing me a wooden stick with the end wrapped in cloth.

"You might as well make yourself useful; here, carry this torch and stick close," he said.

"The torch will be unnecessary," I informed, although I took it into hand before placing it in my pack. With a small flick of my left hand, I had summoned an orb of light strong enough to illuminate my surroundings within a radius of 10 or so yards. I turned to him as Killian rushed up to join us, clearly bored. "Erm, by the way... How's the stomach wound?"

Baurus winced upon asking. "You know that Aodh bastard, don't you?"

"I know he's prone to being a total son of a hazmot, but he's my closest friend. Nerevarine or no, _someone_ has to watch his back when no one else can." I saw him open his mouth, to which I cut him off with annoyance. "And the next person who inquires if we are in any sort of relationship will quickly find themselves flying to Vvardenfell without any means of _brakes._"

The Redguard did the smart thing and simply closed his mouth.

* * *

"That thing is _outlawed_ for a _reason!_"

"And _I_ have no intentions of using it in _Hammerfell_. This is _Cyrodiil._ Besides, it wasn't even _in_ Hammerfell when I picked it up. Aodh just let me keep it."

"Aodh-!"

"Killian, quit antagonizing Baurus."

"Dammit! You're no fun!"

"Do you remember what happened _last time_ you antagonized someone?"

"That was a completely isolated incident-!"

"And Dagoth Ur was nothing more than a little puppy who liked to play with everyone's shoes."

Killian gave me a glare/pout in response as Baurus had to restrain himself from laughing.

* * *

"Hold up. I don't like this; let me take a look."

Glenroy moved further into the Sanctum, heading down the stairs as I moved towards the top of them. It was almost the end of the beginning. The Imperial turned back towards us with a nod. "We're clear. Hurry; we're almost through to the sewers."

"We're not out of the woods _yet_, Glen."

"Will you quit calling me that, you annoying monk!"

I shot Killian a glare to shut her up as the four of us joined Glenroy on the lower part of the room, turning right. All of us caught sight of the gate that would lead through to the sewers, but there was just one thing off about this one. Glenroy stepped into stance as he drew his katana, glaring. "Dammit! The gate is barred from the other side! We're trapped!"

"What about that side passage over there?" Baurus inquired, motioning to another doorway behind us.

"Worth a try! Let's go!"

The five of us made our way towards said side-passage - the room of reckoning that would prove to be where everything fell apart. All of us entered the passage, looking around. It was Baurus who noted what we saw aloud.

"It's a dead end." He turned to the Emperor. "What's your call, sire?"

The sound of a gate opening. Multiple footsteps. Glenroy turned. "They're behind us! Wait here, sire."

Killian drew her Crescent, a maniacal grin on her face as she rushed out of the room. Baurus turned to me. "Wait here with the Emperor; _guard him with your life._"

Both Blades rushed out of the room, katanas drawn and with every intention of keeping their charge safe, both shouting in unison, "For the Emperor!"

The sounds of battle reached our ears as my eyes closed. "And so the beginning ends. The blood-red dawn rises, a symbol of the end that will come. The Dragonfires will fail this morn, and now only one last hope to save the Empire from darkness remains."

"You know what must be done," said Emperor Uriel, turning to me. "We both know I can go no further. My guards are strong and true, but even the might of the Blades cannot stand against the Power that rises to destroy us. The Prince of Destruction awakes, born anew in blood and fire. These cutthroats are but his mortal pawns."

He withdrew the large pendant from around his neck, a familiar crimson diamond surrounded by eight other jewels in its setting. The Amulet of Kings. He took hold of my free hand, placing the Amulet within it.

"Take my Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son.

"Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

A panel of the wall behind us opened. I opened my mouth in an attempt to warn him but it was too late. The Emperor winced in pain as a dagger from behind him pierced through his chest. The man behind him removed it soon afterwards as the Emperor fell forward, blood staining the stone floor.

Emperor Uriel Septim, ruler of Tamriel for 65 years, died by a stab wound to the heart at 6:07 AM, 27th of Last Seed, 3E433.

* * *

**Author's Note:** HAHAH! Time to get this show on the road!

Next Chapter: the rush to Weynon Priory, the mission to find the Emperor's secret son, and an unexpected inheritance…

- _Kestrel Harper_


	10. 1X: 27 Last Seed Departure

**Summary:** For 10 years, she prepared. Now Kieran Herne, a human from Earth turned into an elven warrior, must race against time to find the heir to the Empire and restore him to the throne, else all of Tamriel – and Nirn – perish.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mages Guild quest/storyline.

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 1 - "Ending Beginning"  
**_**Chapter 1-10 - 27 Last Seed - Departure**

**

* * *

**

The Emperor was dead. Held in my right hand was the Amulet of Kings. The assassin still remained in front of me.

He wouldn't for long.

I tossed the orb in my left hand upwards, withdrawing a single throwing knife. While my left was most definitely _not_ my right, the Amulet was far more important.

The assassin hadn't expected a throwing dagger to his sternum before I blasted him with what was intended to be a mere Hail spell. What I got instead was Glacial Spike. ..._Again._ Not like I necessarily _cared_ at this point.

The orb of light returned to my hand as I glared at the red-robed corpse, tears threatening to stream from the corners of my eyes. Damn my natural extreme empathic ability and my dislike of such radical fanatics. What I had just witnessed was Cyrodiil's equivalent of 9-11. And it was only just beginning.

"Divines help us all," I whispered as Baurus and Killian now rushed into the room, the latter holding a certain katana in hand. I knew Killian's "oh _shit_" reaction when I saw it on her face, and I only off-handedly heard Baurus's plea to Talos. For a long while, there was silence between all of us as we looked between the dead Emperor and the successful (but not _too_ successful) assassin. It was Baurus who broke it.

"We've failed," he said quietly. "_I've_ failed. The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead." I saw his eyes widen in realization as he turned to me, standing quickly and with clear panic in his eyes, opening his mouth. I, however, cut him off, simply lifting the Amulet into view. He blinked. "How...?"

"He gave it to me moments before his death," I began coldly, glaring at the assassin's corpse as I lowered my hand. "The failure is not yours, Baurus, but _mine_; 'twas you who instructed that I, and I quote, 'guard him with my life...' and it was in that manner _I_ failed_._ And I will not let such an abysmal failure go uncorrected."

I attempted to restrain my own magicka from going wild again - this was neither the time nor the place for it to be wreaking havoc. I could already feel an almost-literal storm begin to swell up inside me, but for the moment, I would have to remain calm. Baurus's expression turned thoughtful - he knew that I was feeling the same guilt he did.

"Strange," said the Blade, turning from the jewel dangling from my hand to my face, which was still glaring at the assassin. "He saw something in you. Trusted you. Even after your little...escapade eight years ago." I winced at the mention of it, guilt now appearing more and more on my face. Baurus, however, continued.

"They say it's the Dragon Blood, that flows through the veins of every Septim. They see more than lesser men. The Amulet of Kings is a sacred symbol of the Empire. Most people think of the Red Dragon Crown, but that's just jewelry."

My response was another nod as I held the Amulet in front of me, gazing at my reflection in the polished crimson stone as it hummed in my hand. There was, however, another figure I could see near me, his face in silhouette. I knew precisely who it was, though. "I believe this amulet has more power than you realize, Baurus. 'Tis heavily enchanted and holds great magicka within. Only an heir of the Septim blood is capable of wearing it, as I have heard, but the crystal itself..."

'..._There's just something about it that I'm not sure what to make of_,' I finished in my head, my lips thinning.

Baurus nodded once in response, now focusing on the Amulet as well. "He must've given it to you for a reason. Did he say why?"

I nodded, closing my hand around the amulet before placing it in a spare pouch...one right next to my cards, actually. "He instructed I take it to Jauffre." He opened his mouth again before I cut him off. "There is another heir."

The Blade's expression turned into a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "Nothing I ever heard about. But Jauffre would be the one to know. He's the Grandmaster of my Order. Although you may not think so to meet him, he lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol."

"I have business I need to attend to in Chorrol, anyway," I said, nodding. "Your companion mentioned the sewers as where you were heading?"

Baurus nodded, motioning back towards the barred gate.

"Through that door must be the entrance to the sewers, past the locked gate. That's where we were heading." Baurus turned back to me at this point. "It's a secret way out of the Imperial City. ...Or, it was _supposed _to be secret. Here." He handed me an old, antique-looking key, which I took into hand. "You'll need this key for the last door in the sewers."

I sent him a grim look. "And you're _serious_ about this?"

The remaining Blade nodded. "That's right. There are rats and goblins down there... But from what I've seen of you, I'm guessing you're an _experienced_ assassin and a rather experienced mage. Am I right?"

My response was a shake of my head. "Not entirely true. I'm an Edgedancer - straddling the line between light and darkness, sanity and madness, closer to stealth than combat and closer to magic than even stealth. I specialize in Acrobatics, in Marksman, in Sneaking and in Security. However, my favored magic schools are Destruction and most especially Mysticism and Illusion...as I'm sure you remember from my little display eight years ago."

The final part of the statement was so bitter, it was almost palpable. The Redguard's eyes widened, now realizing fully what I was talking about. "Wait a minute, you're-!"

"Kieran Herne," I finished, turning to him. "The ever-confused Varlaismer whose empathy tends to get the better of her. I had hoped that lending my aid to the Emperor in this endeavor would allow me to prove my sincerity to the letter I left behind the night after our..._encounter_. And once again..." I turned away, glaring at the cold, dimly-lit stone floor leading back to the room where Glenroy now lay dead. "...I prove to be an utter _failure_ to those whose fates I thought I could change.

"I deliberately got myself arrested to make certain that I could lend my aid to the Emperor when this day came. I knew to be stronger than these bastards, but I was overconfident. I thought I could do this entirely on my own. To make sure that no one else was unnecessarily hurt or even killed. But now Captain Renault, Glenroy, and the Emperor himself lie dead...and the key to protect all of Nirn has fallen into my care."

As I said this, my right hand placed itself on the pouch that now held the Amulet of Kings. Baurus shot a look at Killian, who shook her head in response - an action that clearly translated into "Don't ask, just _don't._"

"Still... An Edgedancer? _Really?_ I would never have guessed. Is that something from wherever you're from?"

"In truth, 'tis a concept I've favored in my mind for quite many a year. As I was so different from any other possible occupation, it only seemed fair that I call myself one."

"Creative," he noted. "Still, I don't think you'll have any trouble with rats and goblins."

I nodded, turning back to Baurus while pocketing the stone. "After the sewers, then what?"

"You must get the Amulet to Jauffre. Take no chances, but proceed to Weynon Priory immediately. Got it?"

Unfortunately, despite how I always said I understood in the game, this was...something I really didn't know. Considering the recent events, as well, I was borderline panicking. (...Again.) "...Unfortunately, no. Please, can you give me further explanation?"

"Take it easy. You'll be fine. I know this is a lot to take in all at once. No one's more surprised than me that I'm sending an escaped prisoner off with the Amulet of Kings! But the Emperor trusted you for a reason, and I trust the Emperor. The Amulet of Kings must get to Jauffre at Weynon Priory. He'll know what to do with it. Jauffre should know how to find the heir that the Emperor spoke of. The Amulet must reach Emperor Uriel's heir so a new emperor can be crowned!"

"And what about you? What will you do... Baurus, correct?"

"Yes, that's my name. I'll stay here to guard the Emperor's body, and make sure no one follows you." I nodded in response. "You'd better get moving. May Talos guide you."

Once again, I gave a nod. However, before I vanished, I had one last task to complete. I withdrew the fallen Captain's katana as Killian handed me Glenroy's, handing them to Baurus with a bow. "I believe they deserve such reverence for what has transpired today. They've defended the Emperor to their deaths, and from what I have seen, there is quite a bit of honor to be given to fallen comrades among the Blades' ranks."

A small smile, albeit melancholic and slightly bitter, crossed the Redguard's face. He took the katanas into hand. "Thanks for recovering my comrades' swords, Miss Herne. I'll see that they're given a place of honor in the halls of the Blades."

My eyes closed as I gave a polite bow, my right hand clenched into a fist before I placed it over my heart as I did so. "For future reference, Baurus... Call me Kieran. This here is Killian... My Shadow, for lack of a better term." I motioned to the girl in pigtails, who gave a playful smile and a wave. I, however, remained serious. "I have a feeling we will meet again soon enough."

Baurus nodded. "You'd best hurry. Rats and goblins might not be more of a problem, but there might be more of the assassins on the way."

My response was a simple nod, and then another one to Killian, who returned it. The both of us leapt through the small alcove the lone assassin had come from and rushed through the halls, heading straight for the entrance to the Imperial City Sewers.

* * *

"Well...so much for _that_ escapade," Killian noted as we emerged from the sewers again, squeezing sewer water from her hair and onto the ground. Dawn had just barely broken upon Cyrodiil, and it was nearing 7:00 AM. "I can't believe I actually _tripped over a goblin corpse_ - are you _honestly_ that clumsy?"

I shot her a look. "You of all people should know that when it comes to things directly in front of my face, _I still can't see them._ And I am - _was_ - near-sighted. You can brood over your missed dexterity roll later; we have a priory to reach and little time to waste." With that said, I raised my hood over my head, shrouding my face in the early morning light. "...And possibly an old man who needs one last order of Rumare Slaughterfish Scales sent so he can retire."

I turned away, beginning to move towards the bridge that would lead back to the mainland from the Talos Plaza District. Killian shot me a look.

"We're detouring just to go _fishing!_"

* * *

I knew there was a darn good reason why I hated swimming in this world, especially in the lake. I made a face as I drank a potion of healing down, this one with a particularly nasty flavor to it. Did heal potions have expiration dates? Because I had tasted better. Or maybe it was the quality of the potion and where you got it from, who knew?

"Merowald had _better_ appreciate what we've been through," grumbled Killian as she attempted to clean her wrist blades. "The damn fish live up to their name...with emphasis on 'slaughter'. I'm gonna be cleaning fish-guts off everything for a _week!_"

My response was that of a deadpan, "Only because you hate fishing."

"That was _not_ fishing," the Shadow Warrior hissed as we made our way back towards Weye. "_That_ was getting ourselves nearly _killed_ by miniature _sharks!_"

"Do they even _have_ sharks on Nirn?" I mumbled to myself, looking upwards in thought. Killian groaned in extreme annoyance, knowing I was deliberately trying to change the subject. "You know why I'm doing this, Killian; I'd rather _not_ have to cast constant water breathing spells when it comes to certain..._tasks_ I'll be undertaking in the near future."

Killian's eye visibly twitched as I glanced back at her. "Of course. _Falcar._"

No, she wasn't looking forward to seeing the necromancer leading the Mages Guild Hall in Cheydinhal either.

About fifteen minutes later, I had traded in 12 Rumare Slaughterfish scales for one very useful ring: the Jewel of the Rumare, enchanted to allow its wearer to breathe underwater indefinitely and also fortify their athletics. Killian and I slowly began to make our way towards Chorrol, only barely passing by the Wawnet Inn, when...

"Miss! Miss Herne!"

I blinked in surprise, turning at the sound of the young Bosmer in green and brown robes, brown hair slicked back into a ponytail. I raised an eyebrow in confusion as he approached me and Killian. He was panting heavily, having run all the way from the gates of Talos Plaza district. He looked at both of us in confusion as he attempted to catch his breath. "Erm... which one of you... is Miss Kieran Herne?"

"That would be me," I said, stepping forward. "If I may help you, mister...?"

"Eldor," replied the elf, now straightening his posture now that he's caught his breath. "I'm from the Arcane University; I was instructed to locate and give this to you immediately. I have no idea what it's about."

The Bosmer then held out a piece of parchment sealed closed by red wax with the familiar emblem of the University printed upon it - nine stars surrounding a single hand. I took the letter into hand, giving the mage a slight nod to indicate dismissal, and then turned to Killian with a raised eyebrow of confusion. She simply shrugged in response; she didn't have any idea either as to why the Mages Guild would send me a letter of any sort. Cautiously, I undid the seal, opening the letter. My eyes scanned it for a few moments before my right hand shot to my mouth in shock.

Killian looked at me in confusion, noting my unusual reaction. "What? What is it?"

I simply handed her the letter, which she took into hand before reading herself.

_This document is to inform the bearer that the last known owner of the property known as Frostcrag Spire, Master-Wizard Myrrdin Carlow of the Mages Guild, has been declared deceased, and the bearer, Kieran Herne, has been listed as the sole heir and successor to the deceased's ownership of said property._

_The bearer has full ownership rights to all of the structures, flora and land within the property borders as defined in the Cyrodiil Construction Charter. The bearer is responsible for all matters pertaining to or occurring on said property._

_This document also empowers the bearer transfer rights to reassign the property as he or she sees fit. The bearer may amend this document to rename the manor by submitting the proper forms and payments to the Cyrodiil Construction Charter and by filing duplicate forms with the Documents Division of the Imperial City Archives._

Both of us were silent for a few moments before I took the letter back into hand, shock still evident on my face as I placed it in my pouch. "He couldn't have..."

"He did," Killian answered. "Anyone else reminded of what the Emperor told you?"

I nodded, now shifting my gaze eastwards towards the tall spire in the distance, visible from any part of Cyrodiil. "'Today the Tower shall prove a stout refuge in times of need,' indeed..." I shot her a glance as I turned back towards the road, motioning for her to follow. "And before you say anything, no - rhyme _not_ intended."

The pigtailed girl's mouth immediately snapped shut as she sent me a glare of annoyance. "Spoilsport."

* * *

_Middas, 28th of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 7:43 AM  
Location: Weynon Priory, outside of Chorrol, the Great Forest, Cyrodiil_

It was raining when I finally arrived at Weynon Priory. With the Fingers of the Mountain book now returned to Teekeeus and my new spell having proved itself on the road, I had finished what I needed to do in town. Now it was time I approached Jauffre himself.

I knocked on the door politely before entering, bowing to the Imperial monk inside, his head mostly shaven save for a ring of hair around his brow. He smiled.

"Welcome, good citizen. I'm Brother Piner, and this is Weynon Priory. A monastery. Can I help you?"

Making certain that the door was closed entirely behind me, I nodded in response, speaking quietly with my usual accent. "Yes. I need to speak with Brother Jauffre; is he here?"

He nodded, motioning towards my right as he spoke. "Yes - he should be upstairs, reading."

"Thank you." With another bow, I quickly took off up the stairs before slowing to a much more calm walking pace. Jauffre was an old Breton, with a mostly bald head save for a crest of hair around behind him, which was gray and further receding back. Like Brother Piner below, he was also dressed in the robes of a monk, brown in color with an optional hood behind him. Held in his hand was a light-brown leather-bound book of some sort - a copy of _The Warp in the West_, I thought.

The monk's attention shifted to me as I approached his desk, an eyebrow raised as I gave yet another polite bow.

_"What is with you and __bowing__?"_ I heard Killian ask in my head.

_"These are men of the church, even if they are not of my church. Besides, don't judge Jauffre by looks alone - they can be __very__ deceiving,"_ I mentally replied.

Jauffre spoke as well. "I'm Brother Jauffre; what do you want?"

_"Straight to the point, he is."_

My lips thinned before I spoke. "Unbelievable as this may sound, the Emperor sent me to find you. I've brought you the Amulet of Kings."

His expression clearly stated his disbelief before he openly voiced it. "This cannot be. No one but the Emperor is permitted to handle the Amulet. Let me see it."

I gave a single nod, reaching into my pouch. "I was there when he died. He gave me the Amulet and specifically instructed that I bring it to you."

The monk was not impressed. "You brought me the Amulet of Kings?" he asked. "You better explain yourself, _now._"

No words escaped my lips this time as I withdrew the crimson jewel still dangling from its golden chain. Jauffre's eyes visibly widened as I placed it in his hands with a small nod. The second domino was now falling.

"By the Nine!" Jauffre spoke, shocked. "This _is_ the Amulet of Kings!" For a moment, he was silent, gazing at the stone in bewilderment. Suddenly, however, his head shot upwards, his dark eyes now locked on me. The demands were out of his mouth before I could even answer them all. "Who are you? How did you get this? What do you know of the Emperor's death?"

I held up a hand, asking him to be silent. I now removed my hood so that my face could be seen clearly, my starburst blue-green eyes a sharp contrast yet incredibly similar to the brown ones Jauffre bore.

"My name is Kieran Herne," I introduced myself, standing up straight. "I was briefly a prisoner in the Imperial City Prison when I met Emperor Uriel Septim. He was fleeing from assassins at the palace through the hidden escape route in my cell, accompanied by three others: Captain Renault, Glenroy, and Baurus. The Captain fell soon after my first encounter with the assassins while attempting to defend the Emperor. I had to detour as to avoid following them out their escape route and attract attention towards them, but I eventually met back up with the remaining party. We were in the Sanctum when we were ambushed. Glenroy and Baurus attacked the assassins that had followed us from behind, and Baurus ordered me to guard the Emperor with my life... A task, in which, I had failed.

"Moments before his death, however, the Emperor handed me the Amulet, stating that he could go no further, mentioning how the assassins were mortal pawns of a being he identified vaguely as the 'Prince of Destruction, born anew in blood and fire'. He instructed me to take the Amulet and bring it to you, mentioning that you alone knew where to find his last son.

"His last words were, specifically, 'find him and close shut the jaws of Oblivion.'"

The room fell silent again as I let Jauffre digest this information. My eyes closed as I turned to the side, still remaining straight in posture. "I understand if you don't believe me - the story itself _is_ a bit farfetched-"

"As unlikely as your story sounds..." Jauffre began, catching my attention. I opened my eyes, turning towards the monk. "...I believe you. Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me carrying the Amulet of Kings."

I gave a sigh of relief. "Good. Meaning that no, he _hasn't_ driven me completely insane yet." Jauffre raised an eyebrow. "Old friend of mine. But returning to the task at hand..." I turned to gaze out the window behind Jauffre, not focusing on anything in particular beyond.

"I am correct in presuming that the Prince of Destruction the Emperor referred to is the Daedric Prince known as Mehrunes Dagon, correct?"

Jauffre nodded. "Yes, that would be him. He was involved with Jagar Tharn's plot against the Empire years ago. It doesn't surprise me to find his hand in the current calamity. The Emperor's words - 'Close shut the jaws of Oblivion' - certainly suggest that he perceived some threat from Oblivion. But all the scholars agree that the mortal world is protected from the daedra of Oblivion by magical barriers."

My eyes closed as I focused on the final clue. "'Close shut the jaws of Oblivion'..."

"His meaning is unclear to me as well," Jauffre admitted. "The Emperor seemed to perceive some threat from the demonic world of Oblivion. As you've already noted, Mehrunes Dagon is one of the lords of Oblivion, and the mortal world-"

"-is protected by magical barriers, as _you_ already noted," I finished, opening my eyes before turning to Jauffre. "I have a vague idea as to the meaning behind it, but I am otherwise still uncertain. How could Oblivion threaten Tamriel, let alone the rest of the mortal world?"

The monk shook his head. "I'm not sure. Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation." Our attention now shifted to the crimson jewel set in gold on a golden chain now on the desk before us.

"The Amulet of Kings is ancient," he said, addressing it. "Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods. It is a holy relic of great power. When an Emperor is crowned, he uses the Amulet to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of."

I nodded. "That was precisely what I was thinking." I turned back towards Jauffre. "Which means the problem needs to be remedied immediately. His Majesty said before his demise that you alone knew where to find his last son, and asked me to find him."

"I am one of the few who know of his existence," Jauffre said, folding his hands as he placed his elbows on his desk. "Many years ago, I served as captain of Uriel's bodyguards, the Blades. One night, Uriel called me to his private chambers. A baby boy lay sleeping in a basket. Uriel told me to deliver him somewhere safe. He never told me anything about the baby, but I knew it was his son. From time to time, he would ask about the child's progress. Now, it seems that this illegitimate son is heir to the Septim Throne. ...if he yet lives."

A stern look crossed my face as I folded my arms. "It's clear to both of us that time is of the essence, and that no chances must be taken. The enemy, whoever these agents of Mehrunes Dagon are, might know of the heir's existence and may already try to exterminate him. Where can I find him?"

"His name is Martin," answered the monk, gazing back at the crimson jewel. "He serves Akatosh in the city of Kvatch, south of here. He never knew he was Uriel Septim's son." He lifted his head towards me again. "I see you already have the idea planned of finding him and bringing him to safety - I advise here. You must go to Kvatch and find him at once. If your fears are true and the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger. And please, let me know if there is anything you need. My resources here are limited, but I will help in any way I can."

_"Do we need anything?"_ I asked Killian.

_"...A horse or two, seeing as to how you'll be traveling with multiple people who __don't__ have levitation spells, but if we're gonna get one, I want it to be from Cheydinhal,"_ the shadow responded. _"Speed over power, after all."_

_"Agreed."_ "And the Amulet of Kings?"

"It will be safest here with me," Jauffre concluded, taking the Amulet into hand. "When you return with Martin, we will figure our next move."

I nodded as Jauffre stood, moving towards a room in the back. "Pardon my ignorance, but could you tell me more about the Dragonfires?"

"The coronation of each new Emperor is sealed when he uses the Amulet to light the Dragonfires in the Temple of the One," the monk explained from the other room before emerging from it, closing the door. "The Dragonfires of Akatosh remain lit until the death of the Emperor. His successor then lights them anew upon ascending to the throne."

"And with Emperor Uriel dead and no successor crowned, the Dragonfires will be dark for the first time in centuries," I finished as the lock of the door clicked shut. "And what of the Empire itself? Who rules it?"

"The Elder Council rules in the Emperor's absence, by ancient tradition. Chancellor Ocato heads the Elder Council and is the closest thing the Empire has to a leader right now." Jauffre now turned to face me again. "But the Blades answer only to the Emperor, of course. We are not an arm of the government."

"Baurus mentioned that you were the Grandmaster of the Blades," I noted. "Is this true?"

He nodded again. "Yes, Baurus told you right. I am the Grandmaster of the Blades. We serve the Emperor and the Septim bloodline. Talos is our patron."

A smile crossed my lips. "Discretion seems to be your watchword."

"Indeed. Only a few of us have the honor to publicly serve in the Imperial Guard."

"Baurus being one of them."

"And one of the youngest Blades ever to serve in the Emperor's personal guard." I blinked. How old _was_ Baurus, anyway? "I'm glad to hear he survived, but I fear he will take the Emperor's death particularly hard."

"He and I both," I mumbled under my breath. I withdrew my pocket watch, double-checking the time. It was almost five 'till. I gave a small nod before speaking louder, turning back towards Jauffre as he moved back towards his desk. "I'll return with Martin as soon as I possibly can. I have a feeling that with the Emperor's death, everything has gone from bad...to worse."

Jauffre nodded. "Then good luck, Miss Herne. And may Talos guide you."

My response was that of a bitter smile before I turned away, heading for the stairs as I lifted my hood above my head. "With all due respect, sir... _please_ don't jinx it."

* * *

_Middas, 28th of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 8:10 PM  
Location: Gold Road, County Kvatch, Gold Coast, Cyrodiil_

"Arrows."

"Quivers are full."

"Bows."

"Polished and ready."

"Blades."

"Sharp and in prime condition."

"Polearms?"

"Staves or spears?"

"Yes."

"Spear-tips are sharpened and the staves are sanded down."

"Wrist blades."

"Are _my_ priority, and they're still as sterling as ever."

"Throwing weapons."

"Same."

I nodded as I lifted my head towards the road, focusing on moving forward. "Healing potions."

"At least 40 of the normal and 20 strong."

"Potions of Sorcery?" Killian shot me a look. I realized quickly as to why, to which I promptly facepalmed. "Sorry, standard question, but still..."

"Around 15," she answered. "Are you _certain_ about all of this?"

This time, I was the one to shoot her a look, visible even from beneath my hood. "This has to be done whether we like it or not, and you know this. We get into the Gate, I cleave my way towards the Stone, you help any possible soldiers still trapped inside return back to the camp, we help take back the castle, we get _him_ out of that _hellhole._ It's a good plan that we can still modify if everything goes to the Burning Hells and back, and if we-!"

My words were cut off by the sound of incredibly loud thunder coming from up ahead. Though I was expecting it, the sound itself had made me jump. Both Killian and I now shifted our attention towards our destination, upcoming in front of us.

Standing there at the top of a high mountain was Kvatch - a brilliant city laid waste, still besieged and still aflame, only further highlighting the blood-crimson skies that peeked through the ash-colored clouds.

And that was putting the situation _lightly_.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** This took a lot longer than I anticipated, but I finally got it out. Eight pages for this chapter alone… _sheesh._ And something tells me they're only going to get _longer._

Now, then, I've only not posted it throughout most of Act 0 because I figured it would be done on its own, but only one person has actually reviewed. Unless what you write down can basically be compiled into something along the lines of "OMG, ur storie _sux_" or "W00t! Kool storie! Can't w8 for n3xt chap!11!" [/deliberate parody], please review, preferably with constructive criticism. Tell me what I'm doing right, wrong, whatever you're not sure about – I'm not going to get better if I'm not told what's broke and needs to be fixed and what ain't broke so I don't fix it.

Next Chapter: Breaking the Siege of Kvatch

Until next time…

- _Kestrel Harper_


	11. 1XI: 28 Last Seed Gate

**Summary**: For 10 years, she prepared. Now Kieran Herne, a human from Earth turned into an elven warrior, must race against time to find the heir to the Empire and restore him to the throne, else all of Tamriel – and Nirn – perish.

**Warning:**Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:**Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mages Guild quest/storyline.

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 1 - Ending Beginning  
**_**Chapter 1-12 - "Gate"**

**

* * *

**

The refugee camp was just as gloomy as the skies above the city. There were, at minimum, nine notable individuals, perhaps ten, wandering around the camp, quiet and sullen. Most of what I could see at first glance were Imperials, but I did catch sight of at least one Argonian, Orc, and High Elf.

Speaking of High Elves... I readjusted my belts to make sure that I had everything, keeping an eye on the road ahead as I caught sight of an Altmer man with reddish-brown hair styled similarly to a mohawk running towards us in total panic.

"And he'll start talking to us in five. Four. Three. Two. One..."

Cue the Altmer commoner grabbing my arm, tugging me back down the road and towards Anvil. His eyes were wide with fear, and his manner of speaking was frantic, almost as if he had gotten trapped in some sort of horror movie. "Come on! Run, while there's still time! The guard still holds the road, but it's only a matter of time before they're overwhelmed!"

...Actually, in hindsight, the siege probably _was_ just like a horror movie.

"Calm yourself, good sir, and unhand me!" I said, removing his hand from my arm. "It's clear that _some_ sort of catastrophe happened here...!"

He looked at me, and then at Killian, as if we had both suddenly turned into Argonian hatchlings running around in circles. This time the shock he was feeling was more about our "ignorance" to the situation. "God's blood... You don't know, do you?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but the terrified Altmer cut me off, practically shouting. "_Daedra overran Kvatch just last night!_ There were...glowing portals outside the walls! Gates to Oblivion itself!"

Great. Definitely in shock - he was going through flashbacks as he continued speaking. "There was a... _huge_ creature - something out of a nightmare - came right over the walls... blasting fire. They swarmed around it... killing..."

My gaze shifted from the Altmer back towards the charred city higher up on the mountain, a mix of concern, worry, and determination crossing my face. "The entire city...?"

"Go see for yourself!" he replied, still panicking and clearly still remembering the night before. "Kvatch is a smoking ruin! We're all that's left, do you understand me? Everyone else is dead!"

The panic was going to eventually make _me_ panic, and once again, my extreme empathy was not helping matters. I suddenly turned towards him, looking at him straight in the eye despite my face being shadowed by my hood. "How did you escape?"

Thought it was subtle, I could see he was beginning to calm down and focus on what needed to be done. "It was... Savlian Matius. Some of the other guards. Helped some of us escape. They cut their way out, right through the city gates. Savlian says they can hold the road..."

"But that's only on their own," Killian finished, turning to me. I looked at her, nodding, before turning back to the man.

"It's clear on your face what you think is going to happen," I noted. "Run to Anvil; I need to speak with Matius."

The refugee again shot me the expression from when I first spoke to him. "By the Nine, are you _mad!_"

"Very, as I've had to inform _multiple_ people," I deadpanned, a serious look on my face as I folded my arms. "Hurry down the road; you'll probably need to distance yourself from here for some time."

Killian looked between me and the Altmer before whispering to him, "I'd do as she says. Once she's got her mind set on something, she's _dead_ set on it."

"But..." he started. "Nothing can stop them. If you'd seen it, you'd know..." He shook his head, now focusing again on the present - he didn't catch sight of the small glow of the crystals in his hand. "I'm getting out of here before it's too late! They'll be here any minute, I'm telling you. Run while you can!"

And with that said, he rushed down the Gold Road, heading straight for Anvil. I nodded, lowering my arms to my sides before turning around, beginning to walk through the camp at a quick, brisk pace with Killian right behind me, intending to hike up the winding path that would lead to the barricade. "Well, _that_ was informative..."

* * *

The sky had gotten darker and much more menacing now that we had approached the barricade, behind which stood four or five normal guardsman and a slightly taller Imperial man behind them keeping his eyes on the valley, his head shaven bald and a single band of brown fabric around his head, most likely to absorb sweat. Upon hearing our footsteps, however, he immediately turned to face us, then approached me. Saying that he wasn't happy simply from the tone of his voice was a mild understatement.

"Stand back, civilians!" he ordered. "This is no place for either of you. Get back to the encampment at once!"

"Wish we could, kind of _can't_," Killian grumbled. The man, clearly Savlian Matius, looked at Killian with a raised eyebrow before I spoke up, catching his attention.

"What happened here?" '_Even though I already know what happened._'

Matius' eyes narrowed as he spoke. "We lost the damned _city,_ that's what happened!" The Imperial turned away, looking back towards the city gates... or, rather, the ominous red-orange glowing portal with framework that appeared ominously similar to charred bone, highlighted and tipped with a blood-red color. "It was too much... too fast. We were overwhelmed. Couldn't even get everyone out. There are people still trapped in there. Some made it into the Chapel, but others were just...run down in the streets. The Count and his men are still holed up in the castle. And now we can't even get back into the city to help them, what with that _damned Oblivion Gate_ blocking the way."

I shifted my attention to the Gate itself, feeling a cold chill run down my spine despite the heat of the still-blazing patches of ground and trees not too far away. I had seen them in the game, but in real life...

'_In real life, they're a __hell__ of a lot more terrifying,_' I thought as I felt my hands clench into fists. I had a serious feeling of deja vu, namely of how scared I was to try and play _Diablo_ myself instead of looking over one of my parents' shoulders when I was around six or seven. I didn't turn back to the captain. "What will you do now?"

"The only thing we can do," answered the guardsman. "We'll try to hold our ground, that's what. If we can't hold this barricade, those beasts could march right down and overrun the encampment. I have to try and protect the few civilians that are left. It's all I can do now."

And the only way to get the civilians in the chapel - most especially a certain priest of Akatosh - _out_ was to make sure that gate got _closed._ My next line was rather obvious. "Can we help?"

The captain gave me a similar look to when the Altmer refugee first ran into me. "_You_ want to _help?_ You're kidding, right?"

Cue my signature death glare of "Of course I'm serious, you frellwit," which did all the talking for me. A skeptical look was evident on Matius' face.

"Hm... If you're serious, maybe I can put you to use," he said after a moment of thought. His expression turned grim. "It'll likely mean your death, though. Are you sure?"

"We'll do whatever we can!" assured Killian with a nod.

Matius nodded in response before turning back towards the portal. "I don't know how to close this gate, but it must be possible, because the enemy closed the ones they opened during the initial attack. You can see the marks on the ground where they were..." He pointed towards a good amount of the rubble nearby, before pointing at the ground in the middle of the triangle made by the two smaller scorch-marks and the active gate, "...with the Great Gate right in the middle.

"I sent men into the Gate to see if they could find a way to shut it. They haven't come back. If you can get in there, find out what happened to them. If they're alive, help them finish the job. If not, see what you two can do on your own." He turned towards me. "The best I can say is, good luck. If you make it back alive, we'll be waiting for you."

I gave a small nod. "One quick question before we head in." The captain raised an eyebrow. "We came here to find someone - an Imperial man by the name of Martin."

Matius blinked, surprised. "You mean the priest? Last I saw him, he was leading a group towards the Chapel of Akatosh. If he's lucky, he's trapped inside there with the rest of them, at least safe for the moment. If he's not..."

"I'd really rather not contemplate that possibility," I answered in a low grumble. My gaze shifted back towards the Gate, to which I made a single slashing motion with my hand. "But the objective is clear. Those daedra won't even know what hit 'em."

Savlian Matius gave us both a single nod. "Good luck. It is a brave thing you're doing."

"Thank us _after_ the damn gate is gone," I said in response, dashing past the captain and the rest of the guard. Everything was about to get messy.

* * *

Note to self: do not eat for at least a couple of hours before stepping through an Oblivion Gate. If the motion sickness doesn't get you, the smell of sulfur, decaying bodies, charcoal, and the spiddal sticks _will._

"Oh, by the _Nine!_" I groaned, holding my head as soon as Killian and I found ourselves on the other side of the gate. The Deadlands certainly lived up to their name. The area we were currently in mimicked that of an island stuck in the midst of a sea of lava. The sky above us hadn't changed from the sky above Kvatch - most likely another indication that things were _not_ going to go well. I shook my head to quickly dispel the delirium that had struck me from the trip and our surroundings before lifting my gaze towards the closed, black and red gates in front of us.

My eyes quickly caught sight of a man beset by three scamps to our left, desperately trying to fend them off with a silver longsword. Damn it, what was his name again? I couldn't remember. Now, however, wasn't the time. I shot a look at Killian, who nodded before rushing towards the fight, wrist blades at the ready. I withdrew my bow from behind me, knocking an arrow and taking aim at the nearest Scamp.

'_Lightning... strike!_'

I let the arrow fly, catching sight of white sparks surrounding the projectile before hitting its mark in the back of the neck. The Scamp's corpse fell to the ground, convulsing and smelling of ozone as electricity coursed through it before becoming still. The other two Scamps fell to stab wounds from a pair of wrist blades and a silver longsword soon after. I quickly rushed over to Killian and the unidentified guardsman, returning my bow to its normal holding spot. The guard sighed in relief before turning to me and Killian, glad there were no more Daedra out to kill him at the moment.

"Thank the Nine!" he breathed out, about ready to collapse. "I never thought I'd see a friendly face..." A grim expression now crossed his features as he glanced behind him. "The others... taken... they were taken to the tower!"

"Calm yourself; what's going on? And what's your name, sir?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation as short as possible.

"I'm Ilend Vonius. Captain Matius sent us to try and close the gate." His face showed hurt as he spoke. "We were ambushed, trapped, and picked off. I managed to escape, but the others are strewn across that bridge." He turned to the bridge towards my right, the one the black iron gates had barred Killian and I from crossing when we first entered this area. "They took Menien off to the big tower. You've got to save him!" He turned to us at this point, already appearing slightly panicked. "I'm getting out of here."

I nodded once in response. "Very well. We'll handle the situation from here. You're needed at the barricades. Captain Matius needs your help."

Vonius' eyes widened in shock. "The Captain is still holding the barricade? I figured I was the last one left alive. Alright. I'll try to get out of here and let the Captain know what's going on. You saved my life, both of you."

"Then you'd best hurry," I said, turning to glance behind us, "before more of the daedra come."

He nodded before running past us towards the gate, vanishing through the flame-colored rift back to Kvatch and the rest of the mortal realm of this universe. I drew my bow again, knocking another arrow before turning to my shadow.

"Shall we?" I asked, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

Killian _cackled_, an insane grin on her face as she turned back towards the path ahead. She quickly stepped into stance, wrist blades at the ready. "Scamp flambé or Dremora a la Mode?"

* * *

"_Yeowch!_ That's _smarts!_"

"Then get _out of the way of the fireball_ next time!"

The pigtailed double shot me an annoyed look as she stabbed the Dremora Kynreeve in front of her in the gut while I quickly launched a wave of fire at two more coming from my right, following through with an ice blast. Our progress through the sigil keep - the Blood Feast, as this tower was called - wasn't going as fast as I had liked. We were practically being attacked by another annoyance, be it Dremora, Scamp, or Clannfear, almost every ten seconds or so. To say I was a little peevish was like saying the lava surrounding this entire damn island was safe enough to swim in.

On the floors below us, the ground level and the Rending Halls were already filled with corpses of felled daedra. With these remaining Dremora killed (Killian launched a number of throwing stars into their chests, causing my two targets to fall over in loud shouts of pain), the Corridors of Dark Salvation were beginning to look similar.

My gaze quickly scanned the room we were now in. There were three doors - one to our left, another to our right, and one right in front of us. If I recalled correctly, the two to either side of us were locked, which meant...

"Remember the deal?" I asked, shooting Killian a look. She waved her hand nonchalantly, holding out one of her arms. I quickly opened my pack, withdrawing the full set of chainmail armor and the silver longsword I had set aside in reserve for this next objective. I quickly draped the armor over her arm and placed the sword in her hand, turning back towards the door. I had a rather nasty urge to pummel something, not slash them to bits. I didn't take much time in equipping Wraithguard to my right arm again, which I had kept hidden for some time. Most of the times I used Wraithguard, I normally used Keening as my weapon. I figured what the heck - might as well give Sunder a shot.

We burst through the doors, crossing the narrow bridge to the smaller tower on the other side, the Reaper's Sprawl. (I had to restrain myself from looking _down_ - even though I had that flight amulet, I _still_ didn't like heights.) The ramp we emerged on spiraled upwards and downwards towards ground level - above us, I could see a very visible cage and two figures, one inside said cage. I motioned to Killian to follow, pulling Sunder from my belt. Upon reaching the top of the ramp, we quickly saw what the figures were: an old Imperial man dressed only in a pair of sack cloth pants guarded by a heavily armored Dremora. My eyes narrowed at the Sigil Keeper as he approached us, weapon at the ready.

"You should not be here, mortal!" he growled, glaring at me. "Your blood is forfeit, and your flesh is-!"

I didn't even let him finish his sentence as I swung Sunder at his head, a sickening _crack_ being heard as the daedra's skull broke. I glared at the corpse. "That's _your_ blood that's forfeit."

Placing Sunder back onto my belt, I kneeled down, withdrawing a key from the Dremora's pouch. The sound of a metal gate opening indicated Killian's success at unlocking the cage, to which she dragged out the Imperial man. This had to be Menien Goneld, without a doubt, especially with his frantic words.

"Quickly! Quickly! There is no time! You must get to the top of the large tower. The Sigil Keep, they call it. That's what keeps the Oblivion Gate open!" he explained in a nearly breathless manner. "Find the Sigil Stone. Remove it, and the Gate will close! Hurry! The Keeper has the key - you must get the key!"

"We've got the key, now it's a matter of getting _you_ out of here," I informed. "And neither of us are taking 'no' for an answer. I'll handle the Sigil Stone's removal; Killian here will escort you back to the captain."

Killian withdrew the armor and sword, handing them to the soldier. "Use these. I'll escort you back to the barricade. Shouldn't be _too_ much trouble, though, not with all the daedra we've cut through."

I gave my shadow a nod before turning around, rushing back down the ramp and back to the central tower. It was time this hellish nightmare ended.

* * *

Sigillium Sanguis. Translated from Latin, the phrase meant "blood seal". Fitting, considering how much blood was being spilled in this room.

I let out a small cry as another Dremora's blade struck my side, only to find itself launched backwards by a burst of fire. I was swinging Sunder at any daedra that came too close. I was still on the lowest level of this area, and I was being beset by five Dremora and at least two or three summoned Scamps, for pity's sake! A growl escaped my lips as I blocked another incoming blade, only to duck and kick my nearest opponent in the chest and knock him backwards before I spun around, smashing another Dremora's shield and knocking him to the floor.

"You lot are _really_ pissing me off!" I said, glaring at the three soldiers in front me and then the two mages on the second level. With a wave of my hand, lightning rushed towards the mage on my right, causing him to scream and fall off as I leapt out of the way of a sword. I touched the first Dremora with another lightning spell, and then spun around to kick back the second. I had to teleport out of the way of the third warrior, just barely dodging an incoming fireball as I did so. I slammed Sunder into the nearby Dremora's back before launching a powerful burst of cold at the final warrior standing.

Something slammed into me, causing me to stumble forward a bit as a burning sensation spread across my back. Using my free hand, I slashed downward towards the final Dremora, the mage suddenly being impaled by multiple large icicles, quickly turning crimson with blood.

An annoyed sigh escaped my lips as I climbed up the rather bone-like stairs to the second level, quickly moving towards the red, wing-like, fleshy ramps that led to the highest point in the tower. "If there are any more of you damn idiots, I'm going to make you _wish_ you weren't immortal."

Fortunately, there weren't, thank the Divines for small miracles. My attention was now focused entirely on the dark stone hovering in midair above a sort of altar, which seemed to absorb the flame-like pillar that had dominated the center of this tower the entire trip up. The stone seemed to be about the size of my head and, strangely, seemed to remind me of a flame-engulfed Palantir from _The Lord of the Rings._

I returned Sunder to my belt and removed Wraithguard from my arm, placing it in my pack before approaching the stone and reaching out towards it. As soon as I touched it, the sound of wind rushing and what seemed to be an impending implosion reached my ears. The stone quickly shrunk, becoming half its size and dropping into the palm of my hand. I drew my hand back and took a few steps backwards as well, watching as a flame-colored pillar shot up into the skies above. The entire room suddenly seemed to be surrounded by flames, threatening to take me with the tower's destruction. There was a brilliant flash of light, causing me to close my eyes, turn away, and attempt to shield them from the light with my arm...

* * *

_**Prophecies will be made and so they shall be broken. The Three shall meet again and together, they shall avert doom for the worlds in which they must learn to survive. The Sword's life shall be cast as a die in the Game of Fate. He only may live if he can truly learn to embrace all that he is.**_

_**The Shadow, too, will perish, unless she can find the ability to trust in all of her allies, instead of just the one she calls "brother."**_

_**If all this comes to pass, then only the Star shall be left to right the wrongs of the world and to live with the full knowledge of having lived into two worlds.**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Author's Notes:** ...I HATE the fact this chapter has been so frelling hard to write. And it's short. Sorry for the delay. At least I got it out, right? ...Right?

Also, a big shout-out to Godlybunny for actually reviewing Chapter 1-10 – your review was actually the main motivator to get this finished on time. And yes, Kimberlyn's joining a guild, but she's going to have a bit of a delay in getting around to it for rather obvious reasons. Well, it's a bit hard to get your recommendations when one of the major cities you need to get one from is under siege and has been burned to the ground, now, isn't it?

_Next Chapter:_ Rescuing the refugees and the Battle for Castle Kvatch

Until next chapter…

-_Kestrel Harper_


	12. 1XII: 28 Last Seed Counterattack

**Summary**: For 10 years, she prepared. Now Kieran Herne, a human from Earth turned into an elven warrior, must race against time to find the heir to the Empire and restore him to the throne, else all of Tamriel – and Nirn – perish.

**Warning:**Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:**Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mages Guild quest/storyline.

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 1 - Ending Beginning  
**_**Chapter 1-12 - "Counterattack"**

**

* * *

**

The light faded, as did the deafening silence that had followed the sound of Azura's voice. Damn it, why was it that Daedric Princes always had to contact you at the most inopportune of moments to tell you something important! I'd have to contemplate the meaning behind her words later; I had only won half the battle at the moment.

My eyes opened and I lowered my arm, revealing the familiar night skies of Nirn and the charred walls of Kvatch before me. Held in my left hand was the Sigil Stone I had plucked from the Gate. The siege was, for the most part, over now. Now to clean up the mess.

I pocketed the Sigil Stone before turning behind me, approaching the barricade. I could see Captain Savlian and Menien, they and their fellow guards awe-struck by the fiery destruction of the gate and my more-or-less unscathed emergence from it. I gave the guardsmen a nod of confirmation that, yes, they _did_ see what they thought they just saw.

"You closed the gate?" the captain asked, shocked. His expression, however, quickly became that of a renewed hope and vigor. "I _knew_ you could do it! This is our chance to launch a counterattack!" He looked at Killian and I both now as the shadow joined my side, currently cleaning her wrist blades again. "I need you to come with us. You've got far more combat experience than these men. Are you able to join us now? I can wait, but not for long. We've got to move quickly, before they have a chance to barricade the city again. Your friend already went inside the city to see what she could do."

An annoyed look crossed my face again. That explained Killian's absence. "Somehow, I'm not surprised she did. I'm ready; let's go."

The captain nodded, withdrawing his longsword before raising it up into the air, addressing his men. "For Kvatch!"

"_For Kvatch!_" echoed the remaining guards, drawing their blades as well. I simply turned around, withdrawing my bow again as we rushed towards the gates. We were little more than five or so individuals strong, but I hoped my magic could more than make up for that.

Entering the plaza, however, I was surprised to see a large number of daedra _corpses_ littering the area, all of them clearly having died from stab wounds. I could hear more fighting in the distance, behind the chapel - the sound of Dremora yelling out in pain, Clannfear and Scamps dying, and what could only be Killian's playful laughter over the sound of metal punching through metal and flesh.

"...She wiped the bastards out," Savlian noted, once again shocked. I, myself, was surprised; I didn't expect her to be _this_ violent. Unless this was her own therapeutic session of some sorts...

Savlian's voice broke me from my thoughts. "It's safe to pull those people out of the chapel. Let's get in there and make sure they're all right." I nodded once as the Captain turned to me. "Come on. This is only the beginning of the battle for Kvatch. We can discuss the next phase once the civilians are safe."

* * *

Despite the ruined state of the chapel, I immediately found myself overwhelmed by a sense of peace and calming. There were a large number of civilians inside, I noted, along with only two or three remaining guardsmen. I didn't even pay attention to the Captain approach and ask for a report from the Redguard woman standing near the entrance. I was much more focused on the people present.

Unlike in the game, there were entire families here. A large number of children were huddled near the back of the chapel near the Altar of the Nine, where a man in gray robes was currently tending to the health of a young girl. He had short, dark brown hair that was well kept, and familiar blue-gray eyes that instantly reminded me of the late Emperor. There were shades of Emperor Uriel in his appearance, but they weren't too incredibly obvious...not at the moment.

"But sir! I want to help fight!"

The Redguard's voice caused me to turn from the children and the priest in the back towards the Kvatch guards that still remained.

"You will, soldier," assured the captain. "Once they're secure, get back here immediately. We'll need every available blade, and there'll be plenty of fighting to go around."

She nodded in response, saluting before turning to the refugees. "Sir, yes sir! Civilians, it's time to move out! Let's go!"

Looks of hope suddenly sparked in the eyes of many citizens huddled near candles for warmth and the altars for comfort. The children suddenly beamed, but turned to the priest before daring to move with the rest of the townsfolk. I realized how incredibly likely it was for many of them to have lost their families thanks to this horrendous invasion. The girl whom the priest was attending to slowly stood up, taking the priest's hand before following him out with the remaining civilians, the other children right behind them. She seemed to frail to walk, however, causing the priest to be given no choice but to carry her out, with the Redguard member of the Kvatch Guard leading them towards the encampment.

A dull ache rose up in my chest. The poor child must've been very ill. Once this was over with, I'd have to see what I could do for these people and then approach the priest myself. In the meanwhile...

"We've done it!" noted the captain, filled with hope. I turned towards him as he spoke, standing quietly at attention. "I can't believe it - I didn't really think this would work. Maybe we do have a fighting chance."

My eyes closed as I folded my arms. "Where there's a will, there's a way, Captain."

He nodded, his eyes now filled with fiery determination. "Oh, yes. We're not done. Not even close. This was only the first step. If this town is to be ours again, we'll need to get inside the castle." I opened my eyes at this point as he spoke to me directly. "You've come this far with us: will you go further? If we're truly going to succeed, I'll need much more of your help. I warn you, though, what we've seen so far is nothing compared to the battle that likely awaits us. Take a few moments to catch your breath and think it over. When you're ready, let me know, and we'll get underway."

I touched the wounds on my sides and winced slightly in pain. I hadn't even noticed how much it hurt until now; the adrenaline had kept me going so fast, I hadn't even acknowledged it after receiving them. I was going to need to tend to those. "Give me about an hour, maybe two. I should be ready by then."

Because all the magicka in the world can't heal infections, even if you _can_ cure most diseases (Aodh's Corpus, as I recalled, simply had the negative symptoms _removed_) with a swig of a potion or a simple prayer. Personally, I preferred to take precautions before utilizing either method.

Savlian nodded in response, to which I turned and walked towards one of the shadowed corners near the altar. I quickly withdrew two items from my pack - a roll of bandages and a flask filled with distilled wine. This was the only reason I even touched alcohol at all: for use as an antiseptic. I removed my armor long enough to soak and then apply the bandages to the wounds, ignoring the stinging sensation that followed before replacing my armor again. This actually takes longer than it sounds, for although I was wearing light armor, it was still, at minimum, 25 pounds of leather and metal that had to be cleaned (yes, I insisted on cleaning my armor at times like this, even though I was likely to be bleeding all over the place within the next few hours), repaired (while going through hammers at a vexingly fast rate - though a friend of mine at home had a hobby as a blacksmith and I picked up a few techniques from watching him take care of his smithing hammers, I was by no means as good at repair as most smithies in Cyrodiil), replaced, readjusted, and then secured into place. This took an hour to two hours, depending on the damage. Fortunately, this time it was only an hour.

My eyes closed as I recalled a mental checklist of what I needed to do. Gate to Kvatch closed? Check. Plaza cleared? Check, even though that was clearly Killian's doing. Civilians rescued and escorted to the encampment? Check. Retaking Kvatch from the daedra still here? That was next on the list. Only after that could I approach Martin and ask him to come to Weynon Priory and speak with Jauffre. I couldn't help but wonder _why_ I decided to get myself involved in all of this in the first place.

'_Because you've been stuck here in this universe with no other way to get back home, you're bored as hell, and this universe is being threatened with apocalypse again,_' a sarcastic voice from the back of my head responded. '_And because you're supposed to, being Miss Goody-Two-Shoes for the most part._'

I figured it best to not argue with myself and risk losing at this point in time. By the time this crisis was over with, I wouldn't have been surprised if I developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I folded my hands in front of me, whispering a prayer to the Nine to aid these people however they could at this moment in time. Nirn was going to need all the help it could get now.

So was I, in hindsight.

With the prayer spoken and my wounds tended to, there wasn't much of a reason to delay any further. I approached Savlian again, a hard look of determination etched onto my face. The Captain turned to me, speaking upon my approach.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, slightly concerned but knowing what needed to be done. "We need your help getting to the castle, but we need to move soon."

"I'm as ready as I'm going to get at this point," I answered calmly. Savlian nodded, laughing.

"I knew you'd be up to it!" he commented, grinning. I couldn't help but smirk at his enthusiasm - hope had a way of giving you a second wind in times such as this. However, both of us quickly turned serious again. "Our goal is the Castle gate. We should be able to use this door to get out to the plaza in front of the Castle gatehouse. Your friend is clearly capable of taking care of herself, but I doubt she can eliminate them all. You know the drill. Stick close, and keep your eyes open. Let's move out!"

* * *

The captain, the two guardsmen from the barricade, and I emerged from the Chapel of Akatosh and stepped into the charred streets of Kvatch's northern half, notably littered with the corpses of numerous daedra felled and filled with numerous stab wounds by what appeared to be Killian's wrist blades. I couldn't see her anywhere, but I doubted she had been "killed" and technically unsummoned - she was too unpredictable and too fast for multiple opponents to successfully kill if she kept moving. She was most likely in the north-eastern section of the city, where the Kvatch Arena was located.

Our quartet quickly made our way towards the bridge over the moat surrounding the castle. Upon arrival, however, we quickly noticed our way was blocked by iron bars.

"Dammit! This is no good! The gates are locked, and the only way to open them is from within the gatehouse," explained Savlian, glaring at the obstacle currently hindering us from reaching our objective.

My eyes narrowed as I stepped forward, observing the gate. I had to hold back a tired sigh of annoyance before speaking up. I _hated_ playing dumb. "Is there a way to open it from the outside?"

The Captain's reply was immediate. "We can't open that gate from out here. The only mechanism for raising it is inside the gatehouse. And the only way to get into the gatehouse now would be through the passage at the North Guard House. But that's always kept locked." He now shifted his focus from the lowered gate to me. "Hurry and find Berich Inian. He should be back in the Chapel, and should still have the key to the Guard House. Once you've got it, get to the Guard House, find the passage, and open that gate. Then we can get inside the caste and secure it."

I nodded in response before turning and rushing back towards the chapel, pushing one of the heavy double-doors open before stepping inside. I wasn't the only one to arrive at that moment, however - three men in dark iron armor, one of them an archer and the other two clearly swordsmen, entered as well, one of the swordsmen approaching me.

"We saw the smoke from the Gold Road while out on patrol. How can we help?" he asked.

Huh. Guess my prayer was answered. (..._Not._ This always happened in the game.) "Follow me!"

The Imperial Legion Soldier nodded. "We'll be right behind you."

...Really. They _would._ My attention now shifted to the Imperial man standing near the doors leading back outside, who I quickly approached. He turned to me with a slightly enthusiastic look. "I'm just waiting for Captain Matius to give the order. Finally, a chance to fight back!"

I cut straight to the point. "Do you have the Guard House key?"

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Yes, I have it. Why?"

"I need to get into the castle."

Berich's eyes (for this was most definitely Berich Inian) widened upon remembering an important detail. "That's right! They managed to close the castle gates just before we were forced in here." His shock quickly melted away, however, and once again we were back to brass tacks. "I'm afraid you're in for a tough time, friend. The city's in bad shape, and it will be difficult to make it to the Guard House by yourself. I'd better go with you. We'll have to go through the Chapel Undercroft, and then through what's left of the city." A slightly fearful look now crossed his face. "If…If I don't make it, take the key and carry on without me. You need to reach the tower at the north wall of the city."

"You're going to survive and I plan to make damn certain of it," I said seriously, my eyes narrowing from beneath my hood. Berich gave a small smile before nodding, motioning for me and the Imperial Legionaries (I wasn't even sure if that was the correct term) to follow. He quickly led us down the stairs in the middle of the entrance atrium and made a U-turn towards the door to the right. The Chapel Undercroft. I already knew there was going to be too many obstacles and too little space for me to fire a bow. I was going to need a melee weapon and primarily on-touch spells.

* * *

Damn.

_Flame Atronachs._

Of all times I had to get flashbacks of constantly dying in the third act of _Diablo II: Lord of Destruction._

_

* * *

_

Though slightly shaken, we managed to emerge from the Chapel Undercroft alive and mostly unscathed, seeing as to how we now had a few limbs cooked medium rare. My eyes caught sight of a number of dead daedra bodies scattered across the plaza, almost as if...

"She's left us a trail," I noted aloud, lifting my head eastward towards the Arena. "And looks like she took care of most of the fighting for us, if not all of it."

Berich and the other three guardsmen shot me a look as I motioned for them to follow, keeping my elven dagger out as a precaution. "_She?_"

It didn't take long for us to cross the rest of the ruins and then make our way towards the north wall. I was right - Killian _had _done all of the fighting for us. This was especially evident when we heard a shout of "Damn it! _Now_ what am I supposed to kill!"

A few of the Imperial Watch sent each other glances of uncertainty upon seeing the hooded Shadow Warrior in black pouting with her arms folded and glaring at the corpses scattered around the area. Most likely what was going through their heads: _do we start laughing or do we start worrying?_

Berich quickly led me into the nearby half-ruined tower, filled with crates, barrels, and other containers for a large number of all sorts of supplies. Near the western section of wall, however, was a trapdoor, upon which was a lock. The guardsman withdrew the key, placing it in the keyhole before turning it. With a click, the lock undid itself, which Berich removed before turning to me.

"This is it," he said. "The entrance to the passage is right through here. Best of luck."

"Divines be with us, then," I said seriously, motioning towards Killian and the other Imperial Watchmen that had followed before descending into the small, claustrophobic, and somewhat aflame passage.

I wasn't sure, but I could have sworn I saw Killian make a disgusted face at the word "Divines"...

* * *

"Stay dead, damn you!"

The castle was _filled_ with daedra. Captain Matius, the other guard, and the rest of the Imperial Watch were currently holding the grand hall at my insistence, while Killian and I were currently cleaving our way through the rest of the castle. Though I doubted we would make it in time, we were supposed to find Count Ormellius Goldwine and bring him to safety. Otherwise, if he was already dead (and I had a particularly nasty feeling he was), I needed to snag his Colovian signet ring.

Killian sent another Clannfear Runt flying my direction, which I had to sidestep while parrying an incoming fireball from a Flame Atronach. I countered with a blast of cold, along with the blunt end of the Spear of Bitter Mercy, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces of ice. The Shadow Warrior was just having _way_ too much fun at this point, taking on at least five or so daedra at a time while I was concentrating on cutting them down one by one. Most of the fight was a blur of movement, flame, and magicka blasts, to be honest.

But we made it to the back of the castle, and to the Count's quarters. Just as I had expected, standing above the Count's dead body was a Flame Atronach, which died within a matter of two Frozen Blasts and then another stab to the chest. I had to grimace as I withdrew the ring from the Count's finger on his right, not liking the smell of boiling blood. Killian was pouting when I rejoined with her, her wrist blades away and her arms folded.

"We'll have more fighting to do back at the Priory," I informed her, walking past before picking up a book near the way back to the Great Hall. _A Dance in Fire, v4 - _the middle chapter of the seven-part series. Hopefully, it was an actual series of _books_ instead of just chapter-length passages. "Look on the bright side - it'll be those cultists we're cutting down once we get there."

She didn't say anything as we entered the hall again, where the guardsmen, the Watch, and the Captain had managed to extinguish what they could of the flames and establish camp. Savlian raised his head towards us upon our approach, but said nothing as I withdrew the ring, placing it in his hand before closing it.

For a long time, there was nothing but silence. My voice was quiet, a bit raspy from the smoke. "I'm sorry, Captain. He didn't make it."

I expected him to start talking again, but he instead opened his hand, looking at the ring before nodding. He had determined it genuine. "This is indeed a dark day for all of us left. But I thank you - both of you - for risking your own lives to help us. At least this is safe. Thank you. I'll make sure it is protected for the time when a new Count is crowned." He gave another nod before slipping off his cuirass, as he was wearing normal civilian clothing beneath it. Folding it, he gave it to me, which I took into my arms.

"Take this," he said, looking at me in the eye (as best he could through the shadows my hood cast). "I'm tired of fighting. I may serve you well in days to come."

My only response was a nod as I slipped it into my pack, readjusting my cloak. "This battle may be over, Captain, but I feel the war is only about to begin. I only hope that Kvatch will be restored to its former glory sometime soon."

"As do we all," he agreed. "Akatosh be with you, Miss..."

I was silent before standing, turning back towards the giant doors leading to the castle courtyard. "Kieran Herne. My companion is Killian, my...sister."

He nodded again. "Your names won't be forgotten, Kieran, Killian. Kvatch will remember them in other dark times to come."

Nothing else was said between us afterward as we left the castle.

* * *

_Two dragons, one of golden sun-fire, the other of the silver ice of the moons, perched upon a golden hourglass and a silver wheel respectively.  
The world was caught between dusk and dawn, between life and death, the city aflame and at the same time swallowed by the sea.  
A giant four-armed man of blood-red skin roared at the two dragons, only to vanish in a burst of frozen fire._

_A woman slept in the midst of a sea of stars and darkness, garbed in robes of black and violet shadow and pale white and teal moonlight fabric, broken chains upon her wrists and ankles.  
Her bed: a silver wheel of the arcane zodiacs, one of Nirn, two others not of Mundus.  
Golden hair remained loose, framing her marked face, floating as if caught amidst the waters of time.  
In silhouette to either side of her - a woman, heavily pregnant, and an old crone, garbed in black, both holding dim candles in the darkness.  
Both pairs of eyes remained upon the sleeping maiden, whose dreams could not be seen._

_Upon her brow: a silver circlet of the moon in its cycles, waxing and waning.  
Around her waist: a jeweled girdle of ebony, shaped and representing a snake coiling in on itself.  
Upon her hand: a ring of silver, a crescent moon overlapping a blazing sun.  
And around her neck: Guided-to-Serenity-by-Twin-Moon-and-Triad-Star._

_**All time occurs in Three.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"So now what?"

We were halfway to the city gates when Killian spoke up. She had shaken me from my strange vision in the Chapel of Akatosh, which was probably a good thing for the moment. My response was simple. "Find the Heir. Convince him to come with us. Return to the Priory. Find all hell breaking loose."

The Shadow rolled her eyes. "Why is it always business with you nowadays? You should be having fun. This is what you wanted, isn't it? An adventure? Excitement? The ability to do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted?"

I sent her a glare from beneath my hood. "The metaphorical guillotine about ready to drop and slice off the head of all semblance of hope? The threat of the daedra ready to pour into the mortal realm at a moment's notice? _Property taxes?_ No, Killian, this is _not_ some fantasy game that you can just reload at a moment's notice if everything is about to go to hell. This is _real._ _You_ are real. Ten years ago, I would've been shocked at the fact that I could even launch half of these spells, let alone summon you!"

A chuckle escaped her lips. That smirk of hers was different from her usual playful one - it was a lot...darker. More menacing, even. "Yes, unusual, isn't it? You'd qualify for a Caladeum Wizard in that game series, and yet somehow you have the skills of a Viz-Jaq'taar, who don't even _use_ magic themselves..."

She was getting at something, but what? "Killian, what in Oblivion are you-?"

The only response I gave was her speeding up her steps and giggling before giving a small wave. "I'll clear the road - you pick up our Barrier Priest and meet up with me at Skingrad, n'kay?"

Before I could even attempt to stop her, she had suddenly vanished through the city gates. When I emerged on the other side, she had _literally_ vanished. Annoyance and anger were evident on my face as I walked forward before scanning the area again, mumbling to myself about how I needed to keep her on a leash before she did something like this again. My eyes finally fell upon the city gates again, and the rest of the charred walls surrounding the ruined city.

So many people... so many _dead..._ I couldn't help but feel that this was the Twin Towers attack, where the Emperor's assassination had been the one on the Pentagon.

To think that 9-11 was almost a full twenty years ago...

Footsteps from behind me. A male voice, eerily similar to that of Sean Bean.

How I was expecting the question was anyone's guess.

_"Who are you?"_

_

* * *

_

_

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_

**Author's Notes:** Again, URGH, I hate this chapter. But the way I see it, I got through it. Sure, many missed moments of awesome, more than likely, but once the next chapter comes into play, I won't be a lazy bum. That's also presuming I'll be able to get my homework done and turned in on time, because English for College class is likely to take up a humongous amount of my time.

But no one's here to hear me _whine,_ so let's skip that and move on to more important stuff, shall we?

Andrigno: Thank you! I try to stick as close to the source as possible while still seeing how much havoc I can wrea- I MEAN… While still seeing how much I can tweak to make the story different from other standard novelizations of the game. I hope I live up to your expectations.

Godlybunny: At this point, I'm hereby presuming you a regular reader. Oh, and thank you for your last review, by the way; I now have this rabid plot bunny going through my head that's going to make this story even _longer_ than I originally planned it, and Killian has not stopped bugging me about it for the past few weeks. It might not start for a few chapters, though.

_Next Chapter:_ Escorting Martin, the attack on Weynon Priory, and the retreat to Cloud Ruler Temple.

Until next chapter…

_- Kestrel Harper_


	13. 1XIII: 31 Last Seed Heir

**Summary**: For 10 years, she prepared. Now Kieran Herne, a human from Earth turned into an elven warrior, must race against time to find the heir to the Empire and restore him to the throne, else all of Tamriel – and Nirn – perish.

**Warning: **Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in _Farscape_ terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning: **Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mages Guild quest/storyline.

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 1 - Ending Beginning  
**_**Chapter 1-13 - "Heir"**

**

* * *

**

_Turdas, 31st of Last Seed, 3E433  
Time - 2:16 AM  
Location: Kvatch, County Kvatch, Gold Coast, Cyrodiil_

I turned behind me, uncertain if I heard correctly. To my surprise, and to my slight confusion, the man had stopped at the barricade in total silence. Why, then, had I thought he spoke to me? I could have been hallucinating again, but...

He was around average height for an Imperial - just an inch shy of six feet, I estimated, still almost a full head taller than me, though - with brown hair in a left side-part and dressed in the familiar gray robes of a priest. As I had noted before, I could see shades of Emperor Uriel in him, namely in his jawline and his eyes (straight down to that faded blue-gray color), but it wasn't as evident now as it would be later. He didn't even know he was Emperor Uriel's son... He was raised by a farming family, if I recalled.

But why was he out here? _Now?_ And at so convenient a time that I had just been leaving the ruins of Kvatch?

Silence was all that remained between us as I turned to face him completely. I wasn't sure how to even break it - this encounter was too awkward for me to handle gracefully and I knew it. Fortunately, I got lucky; the man spoke up first, loudly enough for me to hear as approached a bit more, stopping so that he was about a couple of yards away from me.

"I...heard about how you helped the Guard drive the daedra back," he began. "Well done. Menien mentioned that you had wanted to speak with me. Is this true?"

For the love of all that's holy, he was just as shy as I was, wasn't he? My voice was quiet, but still audible.

"Yes. I need you to come with me. You're in danger."

Unsurprisingly, he wasn't amused.

"Danger, you say? You came here to tell me this?" the priest inquired, raising a skeptical eyebrow. His expression quickly changed to that of serious annoyance. "Either explain yourself now or leave me alone. There are many others here who actually need your help."

"You were the one who approached me, not the other way around," I pointed out, folding my arms. His lips thinned. I had him caught there. I broke the silence that followed this time. "You are Martin, correct? The priest of Akatosh?"

He gave a tired sigh. "Yes, I'm a priest. Do you need a priest? I don't think I'll be of much help to you." His head lifted skywards to the dark rain clouds above - a depressing, though still welcome change from the hellish atmosphere that had come with the Gate. "I'm having trouble understanding the gods right now. If all this is part of a divine plan, I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with it."

My eyes narrowed slightly. I did _not_ have time for this. I knew he was going to be stubborn, but to _this_ degree...? "Gods or not, we _need your help._"

A bitter laugh escaped the older man as he shook his head. "If you came to me for help, you're more of a fool than you look." ('_Tell me something I __don't__ know, Brother._') He motioned to the rest of the entryway, charred black from the summoned Gates. "Look around. What good is a priest? I prayed to Akatosh all through that terrible night, but no help came. Only more daedra. What can you possibly know that would help me make sense of this?"

'_You aren't going to believe this, but..._' I lifted my head a bit so that I was looking at him straight in the eye. I didn't even bother sugar-coating it.

"_You are Uriel Septim's son._"

Silence again, for a moment that felt like an eternity. Martin's eyes visibly widened before he was able to speak.

"_Emperor_ Uriel Septim?" he choked out, true to my suspicion. "You think the emperor is my _father?_" He shook his head again, turning away. "No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer."

"The daedra _came_ here for _you_; the Emperor _knew_ you were in danger," I practically snapped, my head lowering slightly as I spoke. I didn't break my eyes away from his, however. The shock was there. Shock, confusion, bewilderment...uncertainty.

"You spoke to the Emperor before he died? And he told you to find me?" His voice was quiet. He was having difficulty believing what he was being told. "An entire city destroyed to get at me? Why?...Because I'm the emperor's son?"

For the third time, there was silence. This time, instead of immediately breaking it, I closed the gap between us so that I was only a foot away from him. I lowered my hood, allowing him to look directly into my eyes. There was no way any amount of acting could mimic this serious expression.

"Why would I lie to you about something like this?" I quietly challenged, eyes narrowed slightly.

Martin was stunned, barely able to speak. "You're...!" Whatever he was originally going to say, he decided against it. But I recognized his expression. It wasn't shock at the unrecognizable. He was silent a few moments.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, turning towards the side. "It's strange... I think you might actually be telling the truth." He shook his head, turning to face me again. "What does this mean? What do you _want_ from me?"

It was here my expression softened. The priest was going through a lot already, but my standard blunt explanation was the only way I could get the truth across to him. "All I ask is for you to come with me to Weynon Priory and speak with Brother Jauffre. He can explain the situation much more clearly than I. That is all."

Fourth time again, only silence. Martin's eyes shifted from me to the space where the Oblivion Gate had stood, blocking the way into Kvatch and blocking the remaining refugees passage out before Killian and I had arrived.

"You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say," he informed. "You gave them hope. You helped them drive the daedra back." Another moment of silence, and then he sighed, turning to face me again. "Yes. I'll come with you to Weynon Priory...and hear what Jauffre has to say. Lead on, Miss...?"

I closed my eyes before lifting my hood over my head again. "Herne. Kieran Herne. Nothing more."

With a swish of my cloak, I turned back towards the barricade, motioning for him to follow. I heard him repeat my name in a quiet whisper before following soon after. We had a priory to reach and little time to waste in doing so.

_Divines,_ this was going to go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes and I knew it.

* * *

_Time - 8:46 AM  
Location: Weynon Priory, outside of Chorrol, the Great Forest, Cyrodiil_

The entire journey to the priory had been filled with very little dialogue - namely shouts to keep an eye out due to bandits and hostile wildlife. Martin had a good number of spells at his disposal, I noted, but I refrained from using my magic for the moment. The last thing I wanted was for him to get caught in a power surge and possibly killed, and that would _not_ sit well with my conscience. Despite how Killian said she would meet up with us at Skingrad, she wasn't even there. Though I hadn't said anything about her to Martin, he saw pretty quickly that I was annoyed at something as we left it and that I was not going to explain about it anytime soon.

Upon arrival to the Priory, my eyes narrowed - familiar figures in red robes and black armor had just cut down Prior Maborel, the man I hadn't spoke to when I first arrived at the priory a few days ago, in front of the boarding house, and the Dunmer shepherd was now fleeing for his life.

...and, I noted, heading straight towards us.

"Damn!" I hissed, drawing a throwing dagger. "I _knew_ they were going to strike before we got here!"

"Who!" Martin asked, also drawing his own weapon, a silver dagger without any special markings or enchantments. I didn't have time to answer, instead launching my projectile at the nearest cultist and then drawing my elven dagger. The Dunmer immediately dropped to the ground upon seeing me rush towards his attackers, allowing me a clean shot at the cultist's gut before tripping him onto his back and then stabbing him in the heart, causing the armor and weapon to vanish in a burst of blood-red smoke.

A shout from behind me. "Kieran!"

I moved to parry as the Dunmer rolled out of the way, but found the incoming attack parried and then turned on itself _for_ me by a rather familiar pigtailed girl in black. I shot Killian a glare. "And just where in Oblivion were _you!_"

"Sorry! Got sidetracked!" she apologized, withdrawing a wrist blade from another cultist's gut. With the current attackers dead, she turned to the shepherd. "Quickly! Where's Brother Jauffre! Is he safe!"

"I don't know," was the answer. "In the Chapel praying, I think. You must help us!"

I immediately took command. "Killian, escort the shepherd here to Chorrol and then meet back up with us here. Martin, you're with me."

The orders went without question.

"Your timing is excellent! I'll take the one on the right!"

"Don't bother!" I called back to Jauffre, my left hand already beginning to spark with magicka. I wanted this done fast, and this was the only way I could. "Martin, Jauffre, cover your eyes!"

Both priests did as directed as I launched an orb of magicka upwards with a shout of "_Kagiru!_" which suddenly burst into a large flash of light. For about five seconds, no one but me was going to be able to see anything, which was all the time I needed. With stabs to the heart each, all three of the assassins fell to the ground, dead. The light faded as I sheathed my dagger, double-checking the corpses for any signs of life. There weren't any.

Jauffre sighed in relief, turning towards me. "You're back! Thank Talos!"

"We're not out of the woods yet," I replied, standing up straight. "What happened?"

"They attacked without warning," explained the old man in monk robes. "I was praying in the Chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout. I had just time to arm myself." He sheathed his blade, concern evident. "The Amulet of Kings! I fear that was the target of this attack. I kept it in a secret room in Weynon House. We need to go see if it's safe."

My lips thinned. "We'll go together, then... Though I fear we're too late."

The Grandmaster was the one to leave first, closely followed by me and then a still very confused Martin. Killian had just returned from Chorrol proper, having caught sight of a few cultists we had missed and was in the middle of striking them down as we entered the house. Martin and I followed Jauffre upstairs, taking a left turn after passing the bookshelves. Inside the small space where Jauffre had kept the amulet under lock and key was nothing now but a ransacked room with a broken chest. There was only one conclusion we could draw.

We had lost the Amulet of Kings.

"They've taken it!" Jauffre cried out, already beginning to lose hope. "The Amulet of Kings is gone! The enemy has defeated us at every turn!"

I shook my head. "Not entirely. I found Martin; he's safe." I turned and motioned towards the rather confused priest at this point as I heard the door open, through which Killian now entered. Jauffre sighed in relief, not noticing the Shadow Warrior's entrance.

"So it has not all gone against us; thank Talos for that!" he noted. "We gained Uriel's heir and lost the Amulet of Kings." He now lifted his head so that he was facing me directly again. "Martin cannot stay here. We have driven them off, but they will be back once they learn of Martin's survival. Which they will."

The voice that spoke next was mine, but it wasn't my mouth that formed the words.

"Then _where,_ precisely, is he supposed to be safe?" inquired Killian from behind the priest in gray, causing the two men to jump. She simply waved at them both, indicating that she wasn't a threat to the Grandmaster, who now answered her question.

"Nowhere is truly safe against the power arrayed against us," he explained. "But we must play for time, at least..." His eyes closed as he folded his arms, scratching his chin. After a few moments, he nodded, lowering his hands to his sides. "Cloud Ruler Temple, I think. The hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma. A few men can hold it against an army. We should leave at once."

Killian, Martin, and I all nodded. I turned to Martin. "There should be horses out back that you two can use. Killian, I want you to scout ahead and clear the road for us - you have the speed advantage even on foot." Both monk and priest gave me a raised eyebrow at this one, but said nothing as Killian gave a mock salute and left. I turned towards Jauffre. "Is there anything else we'll need from here?"

"Nothing, I don't think," he answered. "You may as well take Prior Maborel's horse from the stable. He won't have use for it any longer."

With a nod, I turned away, taking the lead by walking down the stairs. Inwardly, however, I grimaced. The last time I had ridden a horse at full speed, I was about five or so and it scared the hell out of me.

Personally, I preferred the air.

* * *

_Time - 7:57 PM  
Location: Somewhere along the Orange Road, the Great Forest, Cyrodiil_

"You never really learned how to ride a horse, did you?" asked Martin in amusement as the paint horse I now sat upon trotted up to his darker brown one. I shot the priest a look of annoyance, trying my best to not smile at the fact that he was at least a little more at ease upon seeing me look like a total idiot on horseback.

"No, unfortunately," I answered, trying to sit up straight. "I tend to get around either by foot or by flight. Though I'm still working on stopping for the latter."

Jauffre looked over his shoulder and raised a confused eyebrow at me. I sighed. "A friend of mine let me keep a couple of amulets of his - one of them causes permanent levitation when used. It's proven helpful when I needed to reach certain locations quickly and I don't have anyone else accompanying me."

"I'm guessing this friend of yours lives in Morrowind, then?" Jauffre inquired. My response was that of a nod - knowing Aodh, he was likely cycling around his manors or whatever they were in each of the Great Houses, or he was still running around Solstheim. Or he was on that journey to Akavir and hadn't been heard from since; I honestly didn't know. After all, the last time I saw him was back when he sprung himself from the Imperial Prison about a few minutes before the Emperor passed through my cell. ...or was it a few hours? That morning had been nothing but a blur...

'_A very horrific blur,_' I thought as we turned north onto the Silver Road, heading towards Bruma. At this point, we were following a trail of dead wolves, bears, and mountain lions, all of them clearly Killian's work. I hadn't even noticed the slow transition to the colder climate of the Jeralls, only catching sight of it when the snow became _really_ evident. I had gotten so used to living at Frostcrag that I was much more used to the cold than I was to the heat along the Gold Coast or further down in equally-humid Blackwood.

Speaking of Frostcrag... My attention shifted towards the familiar tower in the distance, high up on Gnoll Mountain to the east. I would have to make sure I returned and then refurnished her sometime soon. I couldn't let her just stand empty like that forever, after all.

Martin noted my distraction. "Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing," I answered, turning back towards the road as we continued at a steady walking pace up the road. "I knew the wizard who lived there. He might as well have been my grandfather. He died only a few days ago. He left me the tower but I haven't been able to return for some time, not with what's been happening lately. If it weren't for him, my magicka..."

I trailed off, instead gripping on a bit more tightly to the reigns. "...my magicka would be even more of a double-edged sword than it is now."

The priest honestly seemed curious. "How so?"

My lips thinned before I explained. "I...can never gain complete control over my magicka, I don't think. Not without living for millennia, but only the Tribunal of Morrowind were given that luxury. It's...wild, untamed, for lack of a better term. Less so than it was when I began to use it ten years ago, but it's still prone to-"

BANG!

Prior Maborel's horse suddenly reared up, causing me to fall off onto the stone-paved road below. Martin's horse had done similar, but the priest was much more used to horseback riding than I was, and therefore was able to stay on. I sat up, rubbing my head in pain as Jauffre turned towards us in surprise. "What in Talos's name-!"

"...knock me down when I least expect it," I finished in a mumble, slowly getting back up to my feet before looking upwards at the single card that now drifted down into my hand. I flipped it over. Page of Cups, dignified. '_Something about a relationship...?_' Without saying a word about the card, I returned it to my pouch, calmly approaching the paint horse that had sent me on an unexpected trip to the ground. "We're fine, Jauffre. Just my magicka acting up... _again._"

Martin trotted up to me, trying to restrain a chuckle...and notably failing. "I'm assuming that's normal for you?"

"Define 'normal,' if you would," I replied before mentally adding, '_Other than a setting on your blender, or was it your dryer? I could never remember which..._' I finally got up into the saddle on the third try, lightly kicking the horse in the sides. "Walk." And it did. "I was beginning to wonder when that was going to happen this week..."

"It happens that often?"

"If the cards don't explode two or three times a week, then it means either something's wrong or I am in _desperate_ need of sleep," I answered, unable to keep myself from smiling.

The priest laughed a bit at that one, just barely drowning out the sound of Killian's voice further along the road, shouting at us to get moving.

* * *

After we had passed around Bruma, we began to make our way further up into the mountains. Catching sight of Cloud Ruler Temple for the first time, however, was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

The temple itself was a fortress, with the main building on the same level as the watchtowers, and looking very much like a Japanese pagoda or temple. Unsurprising, seeing as to how the residents of Akavir were also very eastern Asian in influence - the katanas tended to be one's first clue. Killian had decided to join back up with us halfway up the trail, remaining in the back as we followed Jauffre. It didn't take long for us to reach a set of giant wooden double-doors - ones that would lead to a staircase that would lead us up to the temple itself. The stonework was absolutely phenomenal, and this was just the outside.

Jauffre dismounted from his horse, which signaled for me and Martin to do the same. The double doors opened, and a Redguard man - not Baurus, though - emerged from it, dressed in the standard heavy armor of the Blades. He immediately approached Jauffre, but not without taking notice of Martin first.

"Grandmaster, is this...?"

"Yes, Cyrus," replied the monk with a nod, turning towards Martin while Killian and I stood off to the side behind them. "This is the Emperor's son, Martin Septim."

A smile crossed the Redguard's face as he approached the priest in gray, giving a short bow before speaking. "My lord! Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple! We have not had the honor of an Emperor's visit in many years!"

Martin, still not used to the idea of being Emperor Uriel's son, was a bit surprised and, perhaps, embarrassed. "Ah, well... thank you! The honor is mine!"

Jauffre turned to the priest, speaking next. "Come. Your Blades are waiting for you." He then turned towards me. "And you had best come along as well, as it seems your companion has vanished again."

I blinked, turning towards the spot where Killian had been standing. Annoyance crossed my face as I hung my head, pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance. "I'm going to kill her, I _swear..._"

But it's a bit hard to kill the unkillable, in hindsight.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** ARGHH! Short, short, short, short, _SHORT!_ Blah, four pages… This is just a breather chapter, same with the next one… _Then_ things should kick back up, I hope.

_Next Chapter:_ Jauffre gives his objective/morale speech, Martin fails to come up with a better one, and recovering from Kvatch for a bit.

Until next chapter…

_- Kestrel Harper_


	14. 1XIV: 1 Hearthfire Blade

**Summary:** For 10 years, she prepared. Now Kieran Herne, a human from Earth turned into an elven warrior, must race against time to find the heir to the Empire and restore him to the throne, else all of Tamriel – and Nirn – perish.

**Warning:** Will contain graphic violence, cussing (in Farscape terminology or otherwise), bandits, marauders, papercuts, hangnails, Azura prophecy-messages. Will also include threats, verbal fencing matches, wild magic that's incredibly out of control, the Tribunal, tarot, and all sorts of havoc dedicated to the Prince of Madness.

**Spoiler Warning:** Spoilers for the Main Quest and the Mages Guild quest/storyline.

* * *

**Edgedancer**_**  
**__**Act 1 - Ending Beginning  
**_**Chapter 1-14 - "Blade"**

**

* * *

**

"Blades! Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in chaos."

He may have been an old Breton man, but he certainly knew how to deliver a speech. I watched from the sidelines near the training square as Jauffre paced the two lines of Blades up and down, only to suddenly stop closer to the door to the temple's great hall.

"But there is yet hope," he said, now turning to the priest. "Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim... The last heir of the Septim blood!"

There was a sudden cheer from the Blades in unison of "Hail, Dragonborn! Hail, Martin Septim! Hail!" To say that Martin was still a bit dazed was understating his expression. He only barely seemed to hear Jauffre as the Breton spoke, but he was quick to recover. He turned to the Grandmaster of the Blades, and then the rest of the armored men and women flanking either side of the main walkway. I stood off to the side - _far_ off to the side, leaning against the outer wall of the East Wing and only partially paying attention.

I'd never been much of a fan of crowds, really.

"Jauffre... All of you..." he began, his eyes scanning the small gathering. "I'm not used to giving speeches, but... I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it." With his head bowed and eyes closed, he finished with a small, humble, "Thank you."

Clearly, it wasn't what Jauffre was expecting as he dismissed the Blades to return to their duties. To be honest, though, I doubted I could have done better if I were in his position.

'_Hell, any speech I'd make would probably come out sounding like crap and/or just be ignored by everyone anyway,_' I thought, staring at a random spot on the ground. It was standard for me to be ignored, as I recalled - who wanted to listen to loud, know-it-all Harris, anyway? Ironic, too, seeing as to how my best subject was English before I somehow wound up here... However I wound up here in Mundus in the first place.

"Is everything alright? You've been rather quiet since we got here."

My reverie was quickly broken by the sound of Martin's voice. I turned to the priest, who I hadn't noticed approach. I gave a small nod in response, standing up straight. "I'm fine. I'm mainly just tired."

A scoff from behind me quickly intruded. "Less of that. More of how you just can't stand crowds."

Within seconds, I had turned to face the sniggering Killian, my arms folded and a glare evident on my face. "And just where did _you_ disappear off to?"

Killian instead changed the subject. "Is there a specific reason why you're both easily distracted this evening? You I can understand, Martin - this _is_ a bit much - but really, Kieran? What's been annoying you?"

I shot her a glare from beneath my hood. She quickly got the message. "Oh. _That._ And I really should just shut up and go now - bye!"

Of the remaining Blades that were still outside, none of them were certain what the black and blonde blur rushing down the stairs was. I wasn't quite certain what to do about the awkward silence that followed before I finally spoke.

"Anyone up for going inside where it's _warm?_"

* * *

Martin was nervous, that was understandable. He was also incredibly distracted as we entered the temple's Great Hall. He quickly noted my concern, however (even if my face was mostly hidden at this point), to which he quickly attempted to distract me.

"Not much of a speech, was it?" he asked with a bitter smile. "Didn't seem to bother them, though."

I nodded, smiling a bit. His distraction worked. "You told them what you honestly felt. Jauffre may have expected something more, but you're still getting used to the idea of being the Emperor's son."

The priest's smile faded as he turned away. "That much is true..." His head hung. My lips thinned. Maybe I _shouldn't_ have said that... "I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you, and I thank you for that. But everyone suddenly expects me to know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do, and I haven't the faintest idea..."

"_Most_ everyone here, perhaps..." I corrected, just as serious as he was about the topic, "...but not me. For you to know everything straight away is an unrealistic and foolish expectation. I actually admire you for how calmly and seriously you've been handling all of this. Divines, I know I'd have a much more difficult time were I presented a similar situation..." I shook my head, turning towards my right as my lips thinned. I was silent for a moment before continuing. "But I believe our next course of action is clear: the Amulet of Kings _must_ be recovered."

His response was a nod. "Agreed. We must retrieve the Amulet so that we... _I_..." He didn't seem comfortable with that correction he just made, I noted, "...can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion."

Once again, I nodded, turning towards the roaring fire heating the hall on the other side of the room. "And then you will be Emperor."

"The Emperor..." he repeated, a bitter laugh escaping him as he sat down in one of the chairs. "_That's_ an idea that will take some getting used to."

BANG!

'_Oh, for the love of Azura, not __again__..._'

Everyone in the Great Hall (not including me) jumped. The Blades on duty had drawn their katanas in a blur, looking around for the source of the disturbance. I simply waved them off as an indication there was nothing to worry about as I also took a seat near the fire, looking upwards. Two cards now floated down towards me, and quickly zoomed to my raised hand as I nonchalantly reached for them. I flipped them over, looking at the depicted symbols before a smile crossed my face. I turned to Martin again, who now let out a sigh of relief at the fact it was only my magicka going off again.

"Try not to doubt yourself," I said. "Keep a steady pace and you'll come through fine, I think."

I turned the cards over so that he could see them. The Hierophant. The Emperor. The smile I gave was a bit of a joking one, but still remained serious. "Just try not to say anything like that around me; they like to reassure others when they hear the need for it."

"Something tells me _no one_ here is going to get used to that," Martin noted with a smile and slight chuckle as I returned the cads to their pouch. "Though, if I might inquire...what are those? They look like ordinary cards, but there's something different about them."

"Tarot." I withdrew the deck at this point so that he could see it more clearly, keeping the cards face down. "It's an old hobby of mine; doubles as a focus exercise since I'm horrible at concentration, to be honest." He raised a skeptical but amused eyebrow. I couldn't help but chuckle. "I know, I know - exactly the wrong trait for a mage, but I've learned to more or less adjust. Basically, tarot is symbol manipulation to determine outcomes of an event or a way to interpret your personal traits, good _and_ bad. There's a bit of mysticism involved in my readings, so the cards tend to help me glimpse at what I need to do or keep an eye out for if I'm stuck or have no idea where I'm going."

I glanced upward and towards my left as I said this, trying to restrain a sheepish smile. Martin blinked in surprise.

"And they really work?"

"For me, at least," I answered with a nod. "It also depends on the spread I'm using to read the cards. My interpretation can differ from another reader's - like I said, it's only an old hobby of mine - but I think I'm the only person in Cyrodiil who knows about them, let alone how to use them." I shrugged. "Not very surprising, really; not many of my own people know about it, last I checked. I still find the cards and the readings to be useful tools, though."

"Really?" he asked. "So this most recent, erm...burst?"

"A reaction to your words, as I mentioned," I explained. "The cards, in this case, have two different meanings. The first is like a normal reading, a message for you to not doubt yourself, like I said before. The other is a note to me as to what cards I use to represent you by if I do a reading for you, or if they come up together in a reading. They're referred to as significator cards in that context."

"Which cards were those again? I didn't really see the names..."

"The Hierophant, or the Holy Man, which indicates your life as a priest of Akatosh, and the Emperor, for reasons that I'm quite certain are obvious. More often than not, though, they're indicators of certain personality traits instead of current and destined occupations and roles. The few readers I've been to before I decided to take up tarot myself tend to use one significator per person, but I like to use multiple for additional specifics about a person, or even myself for self-readings."

"Could you perform one of these readings for me, then?"

I blinked, surprised. That wasn't a question I was expecting. "Well, I guess so, if neither of us are going to get to sleep anytime soon..."

* * *

_Fredas, 1st of Hearthfire, 3E433  
Time - 7:00 AM  
Location - Cloud Ruler Temple, Jerall Mountains, Cyrodiil_

We remained awake for most of the night that evening, first discussing about Martin's reading and then about the events that led up to our meeting at the rather apocalyptic scene that was Kvatch. It wasn't until Jauffre had to practically _order_ us to sleep sometime around two that morning did we actually decide to retire for the night. For the moment, we needed rest. After what happened at the Priory and then Kvatch before that, we desperately needed it.

I didn't sleep in the west wing's sleeping quarters that night. Actually, I wound up falling asleep at the table closest to the fireplace and the west wing entrance from the hall for all of two hours. The ones who woke me up were two Imperial men - Fortis and Pelagius, if I recalled correctly, who normally sparred most of the morning outside beginning at six - who were a bit worried if I had a bit too much ale the previous night. I had originally planned to add on to my journal before I turned in for the night, but apparently I never got around to that, though I _did_ have to wonder where the clay tankard nearby had come from. ...or was that already there when I first sat down? Either way, I had no indication of a hangover, let alone being drunk in the first place, so their fears were very thankfully disproved.

Attempting to ink my quill also resulted with a burst of _Farscape_ explicatives kept as quiet as possible, as I realized I had also forgotten to close the cap on the inkwell. The following half-hour was then devoted to searching through all of my supplies for a well of ink that wasn't dried out. ...to no avail.

"Note to self..." I mumbled, folding my arms after replacing all of my equipment to their proper holders in my pack and on my belt, "...next time I'm in Bruma, stock up on ink and parchment."

The door to the west wing opened, from which Jauffre now entered the hall in almost full Blades armor, missing only the helm. I quickly stood upon catching sight of him, making sure I was standing straight before nodding a silent greeting to him. He nodded a greeting as well before approaching me, slightly concerned.

"Awake already?" inquired the Breton. "Did you get _any_ sleep, Herne?"

"I'd estimate two hours at most," I answered honestly. "I can sleep like a rock, but it's actually _getting_ to sleep that's the problem. Besides, it was unlikely I would get much last night anyway, what with the sacking of Kvatch and then the attack on the Priory." There was evident irritation in my voice as I said the last half of the sentence. "I have a feeling that everything is about to go from bad to worse before the ides of the month."

Jauffre nodded, gazing into the fireplace. "I have the same feeling." He was silent for a few moments before turning back to me. "Miss Herne, you have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin's side during this crisis. As Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honored to accept you into our order. Will you join us?"

Though this was normally offered in-game, I had a vague memory of one playthrough where I had ticked Jauffre off enough so that I wasn't extended the invitation. To actually have it said to your face in person instead of through a scripted dialogue sequence... Surprise was evident on what could be seen of my face before it returned to its usual stoic expression. "What are my duties as a Blade?"

"The Blades are sworn to the service of the Emperor as the mortal representative of the Dragon Blood and the divine Talos. I believe I have already told you our role as the Emperor's bodyguards."

I gave a nod of understanding and recollection - he had informed me of this in Weynon Priory before I set off for Kvatch. "Very well. I will join the Blades."

A smile crossed the Breton's face as he placed a welcoming hand on my shoulder. "It is my honor to welcome you into our ranks as a Knight Sister of the Blades." He withdrew his hand, now withdrawing an Akaviri katana from behind him. (Come to think of it, how _did_ I manage to carry all of this humongous amount of stuff again? I couldn't remember...) He then handed it to me, which I took into both hands, unsheathing the blade slightly to see the blade itself. My cloaked and partially hidden face peered back at me from the reflection in the steel. "This katana marks you as a Knight Sister. It is a weapon of grace and power and is not to be taken lightly in or out of training."

With a single nod, I sheathed the katana before turning to look at Jauffre again. He recognized my concerned expression, and the questions it posed. "This place was built by Reman Cyrodiil's Akaviri Dragonguard at the founding of the Second Empire. Since then, it has served the Blades as headquarters, fortress, and sanctuary. It is well supplied with arms and armor; use what you need from the armory in the east wing. You needn't worry, Kieran. We can protect Martin here until the Amulet of Kings is recovered."

"Indeed," I said with a nod, attaching the katana to my hip. "But where to begin? Do we have any lead on these assassins?"

The Grandmaster shook his head. "None yet. Baurus has promised he'll send word here when he discovers something that will require investigation, but that will not likely be for a while. You should rest in the meantime. To pass through Oblivion and back is no feat one can easily boast."

I couldn't help but smirk. "I'm presuming this is the part in which you order me to get some decent sleep before I dare do anything today, if at all?"

"For Talos's sake, woman, you need it if you only got two hours," said a voice that clearly _wasn't_ Jauffre's. I turned to the Breton Blade (definitely younger than Jauffre) sitting in the chair near the doors to the east wing, a copy of what appeared to be _The Warp in the West_ in his hands, who didn't even turn to look at us. I hadn't even noticed him enter the room.

Jauffre chuckled. "Baragon has a point. You had best get some actual sleep; you'll need all the rest you can get after what you've been through."

With a tired "Yes, sir," I gave an affirmative nod before making way towards the west wing, collapsing into the first available bedroll I could find. I was asleep within minutes.

* * *

_Loredas, 2nd of Hearthfire, 3E433  
Time - 9:18 AM  
Location - Cloud Ruler Temple, Jerall Mountains, Cyrodiil_

_The downsides of being attention deficit and having to keep moving at all times._

_I spent most of yesterday recuperating from the devastation at Kvatch and the retreat to Cloud Ruler Temple. Unfortunately, until we hear word from Baurus about any information he might have uncovered about the assassins, there's nothing we can do. Meaning I've been __bored__ for the past 24 hours and I __hate__ feeling like dead weight around here._

_I've already been cleared with Jauffre to leave for the next couple of weeks or so and then return to the temple. I figured it about time that I started gathering up my Mages Guild recommendations - I've already got the one from Chorrol. It'll mean a __lot__ of running around Cyrodiil, but it's better than sitting around doing nothing. There's other threats than just the daedra, after all._

_I'll have to stop by Bruma first and then loop around to Skingrad and Anvil. I'll have to backtrack to Bravil and then cross the Niben Bay to reach Cheydinhal, though. I'm saving Leyawiin for last. Why Leyawiin? The guild hall there specializes in Mysticism magic, which is the school of magic I'm most interested in. I don't want to see Dagail until I feel like I'm absolutely ready..._

_...and besides, I hate the combination of heat and humidity._

_

* * *

_

"The Mages Guild? That's rather ambitious of you."

I returned my katana to its sheath on my left hip, placing the whet stone in another nearby pouch as Martin said this. "I can only learn so much on my own, and other mages might have additional information about magicka manipulation and control that I can utilize to keep mine in check. And besides... something's been bothering me since I visited Morrowind seven years ago."

Martin shot Killian a look, who rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Don't start with her. _Please_, just don't. The short story is she has a bit of a rivalry with her adoptive brother."

"Adoptive brother? Neither of you mentioned one before..."

"You'll know him if (and when) he gets here," Killian informed. "And you'll recognize him very quickly thanks to a certain _ring_ on his hand."

With one last check of supplies, I nodded, standing before moving towards the doors leading outside. "I shouldn't be gone more than twoweeks if all goes well."

A playful smile crossed Martin's face. "In that case, I should start to worry if you're gone for three and Maborel's horse is found stuck near Bravil."

Killian chuckled, to which I shot her a glare that did _not_ succeed in shutting her up. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I know, it's pathetic. I'm a mage with incredibly powerful magicka that I can barely control...and I can't even ride a horse at full speed without falling out of the saddle every mile and a half. Guess I'll have to stock up on healing potions and learn a few restoration spells, then."

"Be careful, at least," Martin warned. "Though the guild rules may be strict, there are still mages who will attempt to eliminate you by whatever means they can. That magicka of yours may be powerful, but it won't mean anything if you're killed before you can utilize it."

"If anything, Martin..." I began, closing my eyes before turning away, "...they'll have to find me first _before_ they can kill me."

With that said, I left the temple, finally beginning to make my first steps towards a goal I had set seven years before.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Alright, I admit, I originally planned just skipping straight to the Leyawiin Mages Guild Recommendation after this, but I got scenes randomly in my head for the Bruma and Cheydinhal recommendations and…well, Killian. I won't say much else.

Yes, yes, I know, I know, a full two months since the previous update, but with Thanksgiving coming up and a book critique I need to write, I figured I might as well give you _something_.

_Next Chapter:_ The Bruma Mages Guild and its recommendation through…a game of hide-and-seek?

Until next time…

_-__ Kestrel Harper_


	15. 1XV: 2 Hearthfire Guild

You know what? Screw it, I'm not gonna put the redundant stuff up here anymore...

* * *

**Edgedancer**_**  
**__**Act 1 - Ending Beginning  
**_**Chapter 1-15 - "Guild"**

**

* * *

**

_Fredas, 2nd of Hearthfire, 3E433  
Time - 10:17 AM  
Location: Bruma Mages Guild, Bruma, Jerall Mountains, Cyrodiil_

"A recommendation? From _me?_ Why, of _course -_ Raminus would naturally want my opinion, wouldn't he?"

_Brown-noser: one who flatters or humors somebody in an excessive eager manner to please as a method to gain favor. Also known as a suck-up, boot-licker, ass-kisser, or sycophant._

"This is a situation we could both benefit from, Associate. You do me a small favor, and I'll happily send along a glowing recommendation. If you can find J'Skar, I'll write the recommendation immediately."

_See also: Jeanne Frasoric, head of the Bruma Mages Guild._

Other than the fact that the Bruma Mages Guild was closest to Cloud Ruler Temple (three guesses why - the first two don't count), Jeanne was the reason why I wanted to get this particular recommendation task out of the way and out of the way _fast._ She was a Breton, with honey-brown hair and blue eyes, dressed in a quilted doublet, tan linens, and a pair of doeskin shoes. She was a peppy woman, I would admit... a bit _too_ peppy.

I raised an eyebrow from underneath my hood; it had started to snow hard soon after I left Cloud Ruler Temple and Bruma - hell, every single city in Tamriel that I had visited - was a lot larger than portrayed in-game. Time to obfuscate stupidity. ...or at least obliviousness. "J'Skar?"

Annoyance crossed the woman's face as she set her book down on the desk. We were on the main floor of the Mages Guild building, specifically the entrance room. "He's disappeared." I blinked, conveying my supposed-confusion. She bit her lip, glancing about nervously. "I mean he's _really_ disappeared. No one here has seen him in _days._ Volanaro thinks maybe a spell backfired or something." She began to gather up a nearby stack of parchment, apparently trying to seem busy and productive as she spoke. "If someone from the Council were to stop by and find him gone, it'd look bad for me. I can't have that."

My eyes half-closed as my expression changed to my standard unamused one for situations such as this. She reminded me of a ditzy cheerleader. Jeanne lifted her head from her notes to look at me. "What was your name again, dearie? I don't think I caught it..."

"Kieran Herne," I replied simply with a nod.

Jeanne blinked, looking upwards and towards her left. "Herne, Herne... I know I've heard that name _somewhere_ before..." I was surprised for a moment, but quickly came to a logical conclusion: Myrrdin must have mentioned my name when he came to pick up alchemical supplies after taking me in and before his death. "Oh, I'll remember eventually. Talk to some of the other mages here and see what you can find out about J'Skar's disappearance. If you can make him reappear, you'll have your recommendation. And please, do take off your hood and stay a while - I don't think that storm is going to be stopping anytime soon and you look like you could use the rest."

This time, I was the one to bite my lip nervously. I had managed to get away with wearing my hood in Chorrol, seeing as to how I was in and out of the Guild Hall there, but this particular task was purely inside this particular Hall itself. Finally, I began to move towards the western side of the hall, cautiously lowering my hood. As much as I didn't like the idea, I would have to get used to it sooner or later. If I were to enter the Arcane University, they would need to know what I looked like...down to the finest detail.

...Even if I _did_ bear some sort of weird physical resemblance to Almalexia.

_"...I'm bored."_

Annoyance crossed my face as I attempted to busy myself heading downstairs towards the lower level of the Guild Hall, unlocking the door with the key. Of course Killian was bored - I had dismissed her and that meant she was now, essentially, in my head and unable to go out and kill anything. '_Once the storm's gone and we're back on the road, you can entertain yourself however you want._'

_"Doesn't change the fact that I'm __bored out of my mind right now__,"_ she whined back. _"__Please__, Kieran, just ten minutes out on my own around here? I won't do anything to cause suspicion, I promise!"_

'_No._'

_"__Pleeeeeease?__"_ I could easily see her in my mind's eye giving me puppy-dog eyes and a pouted lip with her hands clasped in front of her, attempting to get a metaphoric halo above her head to start shining. (Actually, it was flickering slightly, but for the most part, it didn't do anything.)

'_I could've sworn we had a similar discussion like this before, Killian..._'

And in my total lack of attention to my surroundings, I quickly bumped into someone.

"Oomph!"

"Owch!"

The unfortunate individual I had run into was definitely heavier and therefore much more likely to knock my lighter frame - equipment and all - down to the floor. Critical failure on the agility roll, it seemed. Within seconds, I was babbling apologies. The voice that responded was male.

"Calm down, miss! Everything's quite alright; I believe _I_ should be the one to apologize." A tanned hand helped me back up to my feet, to which I now looked up at the person I had accidentally ran into. He was an elf, specifically Altmer, with light brown hair and a wild grin on his face. Definitely older than I, but clearly a jokester, despite the upper-class green silk garments, brocade doublet, and velvet shoes he wore. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Erm... neither was I, to be honest," I answered, bowing slightly. "K-Kieran Herne, Associate."

"Volanaro," the Altmer introduced, still grinning. "I'm responsible for magic item recharge and spells here at the Bruma Guild Hall. And if you ever need a witty practical joke played on someone, I'm always on call. I guess you're here for your recommendation, then?"

I nodded. "Yes, actually. I just spoke with Miss Frasoric - she wants me to find a missing mage, J'Skar. Mentioned your name; something about a spell backfiring?"

He chuckled. "You want to find J'Skar, do you? I think I can actually help you with that. But you have to do something for me first, and whatever you do, Jeanne _can't_ know about it. Fair deal?"

My gaze lifted upwards for a moment as I pretended to think about the offer. After a few moments, I nodded again. "Alright. What do you need done?"

Volanaro's grin came back. "That's the spirit! You help me pull off a little prank, and I'll help you find J'Skar. But you can't let Jeanne know about it, like I said."

_"...Kieran, I don't like that grin of yours..."_

Sure enough, I was wearing a grin that could match the Altmer prankster's. "A prank, you say? What do you have in mind?"

Volanaro chuckled again. "A kindred spirit! You're going to _love_ this. What you need to do is get into Jeanne's desk and bring me her _Manual of Spellcraft_, okay? It's locked, but I can teach you a spell to unlock things - nothing too complicated or too draining, just enough to get it open. Her room's upstairs, and should be easy to find. It's the only one upstairs that has a door." His expression now soured at this point as he folded his arms, glaring to the side. "Just one more privilege she doesn't deserve..."

The grin on my face vanished as I raised an eyebrow. "Not fond of Jeanne, are you?"

He shook his head. "With all due respect to our _wonderful _leader..." Wow, one could _barely_ detect the sarcasm there. ..._Not._ "...she couldn't cast her way out of a paper sack. It's insulting that we're here, working for _her,_ when she knows virtually nothing. She's managed to butter up the right people _just_ enough to keep her position, and there's little we can do about it." He glared upwards towards the upper floor before grinning again. "But we have our ways of coping with the situation."

"With this little task you'd like me to perform being one of them?" I asked, smirking. He nodded. I laughed a bit; Volanaro and J'Skar were my two favorite characters at this particular Guild Hall for a very good reason.

Volanaro's spell was much more efficient than the Open Easy Lock one that I had learned a long time ago from Myrrdin. To my surprise, I got it right on the first try - no backfiring or anything. I couldn't contain my excitement. "Well, then! I'll get a hold of the 'item'..." I cautiously eyed the woman that was now passing us through the hall - an Imperial woman with short, dark hair and dressed in a blue velvet dress and matching shoes - who currently ignored us, "...and be back in a few minutes."

With that, I turned around, taking a few steps before suddenly stopping and then turning back to Volanaro. "Does Miss Frasoric have a strong fear of spiders?"

This was a rather odd question for Volanaro, judging by his raised eyebrow, but he nodded all the same. "Yes, she does. Why?"

I closed my eyes, giving as innocent a smile as I possibly could. "Just curious."

With that, I ventured back upstairs.

* * *

Slipping into Jeanne's room was a bit harder than the game portrayed, but not too much harder. After all, I was used to moving silently and making myself scarce, as the little incident at the Imperial Palace was any indication. Carefully, I moved around Jeanne's desk and then used the new Minor Latch Creak spell Volanaro had taught me, silently opening the drawer and then withdrawing and pocketing the _Manual of Speechcraft_ held inside.

A smirk now crossed my face as I held out my free hand, palm facing upward, speaking in a whisper. "_Maboroshi Kumo._"

Within seconds, a spider no larger than the combined width of my middle and ring fingers and just a little shorter than the height of the desk drawer was in my hand, but I felt nothing as it moved into the desk. Once it was inside, I closed the drawer, then slipped out of the room and vanished downstairs to the ground floor.

* * *

_Time: 12:42 PM  
Location: Bruma Mages Guild Basement, Bruma, Jerall Mountains, Cyrodiil_

"Well? Have you pulled off that little prank yet?"

The closest analogy I had to Volanaro's enthusiasm was a kid unable to sleep on Christmas Eve. I smirked, withdrawing the book. "One _Manual of Spellcraft_ from the local head mage's desk, as requested."

"Hahah! Success!" Volanaro said. "I'll just take that from you..." I handed him the manual.

"Oh, and as an added bonus, I added a small touch of my own."

Volanaro blinked, looking up at me. "What...kind of a touch?"

I gave as innocent a face as I could, standing up straight with my eyes closed and a smile on my face, my arms folded behind my back. "Just a little illusion of mine. I've been waiting for an excuse to test it out. You'll know about it when she opens up the desk drawer."

He looked hopeful. "Parchment exploding in her face?"

I shook my head. "No, don't know _quite_ how to pull that one off yet. But the reaction will be similar, I'm betting."

_"She's going to be heard all the way in Vvardenfell, I'll bet,"_ I heard Killian say, giggling. _"And here I thought you were all business nowadays!"_

'_What? I can't have layers?_'

The Altmer grinned, pocketing the book. "I _knew_ you were different from other Associates that came through here before. I'll be looking forward to it. As for finding J'Skar... Meet me here in the living quarters after 10 PM tonight."

I nodded, giving a small wave, then exited the basement.

* * *

The remainder of the day had been spent exploring Bruma more thoroughly and relaxing in the Mages Guild Hall after sundown. I was mostly left alone as I studied in the basement, although Volanaro did invite me to eat with the others at around 5:45. To be honest, I was rather hoping neither he nor Selena Orania, the Imperial woman and the local alchemist, would extend the invitation to me.

"Really, you must be starving," he noted. "I don't see any other reason why you can be so small."

I wound up closing my book, hanging my head in annoyance. "_Yes,_ I know. I'm short, I'm skinny, and I'm smaller than the average elf. Must _everyone_ point it out?"

He raised an eyebrow. "A bit of a sore spot, I'm presuming?"

My response was a simple nod. "Believe me, Volanaro - it gets _old._"

"Still, come on! Can't have you sitting in a corner reading and starving yourself to death. Not if you're going to reach the Arcane University." With a playful grin, he pulled me by the wrist and out of my chair. Despite my protesting, I found myself grinning. I hadn't felt so at ease in a long time, to be honest.

Selena was already inside the dining room when Volanaro and I entered, turning towards us; she hadn't seated herself yet. She smiled at the sight of me. "Ah, so _this_ is the new Associate Jeanne has been gushing on about today!" With a small bow of her head, she introduced herself. "My name is Selena Orania, Mages Guild Journeyman."

I bowed in response. "Kieran Herne, Associate as you already know."

Selena blinked, looking upwards. "Kieran Herne... Now why does that name sound so familiar...?"

"Oh, who cares? Can't we eat?" Volanaro asked. "The food's going to get cold."

"Agreed; I'm a bit peckish," I noted.

Cue the stomach rumble. Volanaro couldn't help but laugh as I looked down at my stomach, my pale skin immediately taking on a pinkish hue. "A _bit?_ Again, no wonder you're so small!"

I shot him a small glare, but I couldn't help but smile - his grin was contagious, damn it. "Don't push it, Volanaro."

All of us decided to take seats at random places at the table, although I made certain mine was close to the door. "Can't remember the last time I had a decent meal indoors..."

Upon hearing this, Selena raised an eyebrow. "You travel a lot, I'm presuming?"

I nodded as all of us began to fill our plates. "Yes. I haven't been everywhere in Cyrodiil, but it's always exciting to me to find something new. Besides, I...figured it a good idea to remain a good distance from civilization unless absolutely necessary, to be honest. It wasn't until six years ago when Myrrdin took me in did I even have a place to come back to, let alone call home."

"Myrrdin?" Both the Altmer Nightblade and the Imperial Alchemist asked, surprised.

"As in Myrrdin Carlow, Master-Wizard of Frostcrag Spire?" Volanaro continued in surprise. My face became solemn as I hung my head, nodding slightly. It had almost been two weeks since Myrrdin's passing, after all.

Selena snapped her fingers. "_That's_ where I recognize your name from! He mentioned you a few times whenever he came to pick up supplies! He spoke very highly of you, too. All of us here were beginning to wonder when we'd meet you."

"He was a great man," Volanaro said, looking down at his plate in a rather melancholic manner. "Everyone here's taken his passing a bit hard. If he didn't retire, he would've been the head of the Hall here. Always helpful to everyone, even Jeanne when she was being particularly leech-like." Selena glared at him, but only for a few seconds. "I don't think any of us have quite gotten over his passing, really."

"Any friend of Myrrdin's, however, is a friend of this Guild Hall," Selena informed, turning back towards me. "If there's ever anyone you need to talk to, Kieran, we're all here. You'll always be welcome here, member of the Mages Guild or no."

I blinked, slightly surprised to hear this, but smiled slightly. "Thank you."

The rest of dinner was spent reminiscing, for the most part, swapping stories about our time with Myrrdin, the general antics in the Guild Hall, and a bit about my travels. I steered as _far_ away from the topic of my origins and race as best as possible, despite prodding from Volanaro, who seemed genuinely curious.

Somehow, I felt like I was home again.

* * *

_Time: 9:57 PM  
Location: Mages Guild Living Quarters, Mages Guild Basement, Bruma, Jerall Mountains, Cyrodiil_

"So, when am I going to get to find J'Skar, Volanaro?" I asked, raising an eyebrow idly at the Altmer as I looked up from my book, lying down on one of many beds in the room.

He chuckled. "Just a few more minutes, Kieran - just be patient."

A smirk crossed my face. "It's only a few minutes difference."

"Yes, but Jeanne goes to bed at 10. She should check her desk at that point to put away notes and grab her book in order to get to sleep."

Upon hearing that, I had to try my best to restrain my laughter. A snort, however, managed to escape me as I put my book down. Volanaro turned from the clock towards me, raising an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"Erm... remember how I mentioned that I added a little touch of my own to that prank of yours?"

"Yes. What of it?"

Suddenly, there was a loud scream coming from the top floor of the Guild Hall, clearly belonging to Jeanne. Both of us turned to look towards the upper level, Volanaro jumping in surprise and me grinning. "SP-SP-_SPIDER! Kill it, kill it, KILL IT!_" The sound of Selena's footsteps running through the basement and then up the stairs reached our ears as Jeanne began to babble and clearly attempt to launch spells at the illusion-spider I had summoned. Her voice was muffled once she reached it, but we could still hear her talking.

"A spider? Where is it Jeanne?"

"I-In my desk! Was in my desk! Ran off - behind the bookshelf!"

"Well, I don't see one..."

"It was _there_, Selena, I swear!"

A sigh. "Come on. I've got a calming draught downstairs and a sleeping potion that should help you - you must've been hallucinating, Jeanne..."

"But it was _there!_"

Now Volanaro had to restrain himself from laughing as I grinned impishly. "Now _that!_ _That_ has got to be the best prank ever done to her! Well played, Miss Herne, well played!"

I laughed a bit. "So, it's ten of the clock. Care to fulfill your end of the deal, Volanaro?"

He laughed, nodding. "Alright, alright, just watch, you'll see."

He then turned to his left, casting what I easily identified as Major Dispel on the supposed-thin air in front of him. In an instant, a male Khajiit was standing in the once-empty space by Volanaro, doubled over in silent laughter. "That... That was _perfect!_ Not only will Jeanne spend days trying to figure out where she put that book of hers down, she's not going to open that desk for weeks!" he said. Finally, he was able to restrain his laughter as I stood up, smirking. "So, I hear you've been looking for me. You can tell Jeanne you've found me now; this prank was getting boring. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Herne."

The Khajiit, clearly J'Skar, held out his hand (paw?), which I took into my own, shaking it. "Likewise, J'Skar. I should let Jeanne know before that potion of Selena's takes effect and Jeanne turns in for the night, shouldn't I?"

"A good idea," answered J'Skar with a grin. "I'm guessing you'll be off to get your other recommendations in the morning, then?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I'm hoping to collect them all before the end of next week," I explained. "But seeing as to how I'll definitely be returning this direction and taking care of Frostcrag, I'll definitely stop by when I'm in the area."

"Now _that_ will be something to look forward to," Volanaro said. "We'd better turn in for the night. If we don't see you in the morning, safe travels, Kieran."

I nodded in response before exiting the room, heading back upstairs. I was going to have to wait until _after_ my giggling-fit had passed before I approached Jeanne, however.

* * *

I found Jeanne in the alchemy room, drinking the calming draught that Selena had made earlier. "I found J'Skar."

"You have?" she asked, looking up at me. The draught had apparently worked - she wasn't hysterical at all. Actually, she was a bit annoyed. "Well, I suppose that's good." Then, she added in a rather loud voice (clearly directed downstairs), "You'll have to forgive me. I seem to have _misplaced_ something." However, she returned to a normal tone of voice as she looked down into her flask. "Hmm... Yes, well, let's nevermind _that._" She finished off the last of the potion before standing, smiling at me. "You've fulfilled your end of the bargain, so I'll fulfill mine. Raminus will have my recommendation. I guess you'll be leaving in the morning?"

I nodded. "I'm hoping to have them all before Loredas of next week. It's a bit ambitious, but I'm used to wilderness travel and moving quickly. Had to if I was going to avoid ash-storms in Morrowind."

Jeanne shuddered. "I've heard about those. I'd move quickly, too, if there was one likely to brew and I were in Morrowind. Still, good luck either way." She smiled, as if we were already close friends. "And don't you forget about me once you've finished your training! I'm sure we can help each other out!"

I decided to play it safe and nodded politely in response. "I'll have to cross that bridge first. But I _will_ be stopping in every now and then, so don't be surprised to see me sometime in the near future. Good night, Miss Frasoric."

She giggled. "Please, dearie, just 'Jeanne' will do. You'll always be welcome at this guild hall. Good night!"

With a slight bow, I turned and left the room, heading back downstairs towards the living quarters.

_"Brown-noser,"_ was all that Killian said before my head hit the pillow.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_ ...Okay, that was probably a bit mean towards Jeanne (no rhyme intended), but dang it, I never really liked her. And early Merry Christmas - I finally got a chapter out! School's pretty much swamped me and pushed me to the edge of (feigned) sanity; I'm just glad I could get this particular chapter out of the way.

_Next Chapter:_ The Skingrad Mages Guild Recommendation and what happens when you put Kieran and Killian in a cave full of zombies.

Until next chapter...

-_ Kestrel Harper_


	16. 1XVI: 3 Hearthfire Rescue

_**Edgedancer  
**__**Act 1 - Ending Beginning  
**_**Chapter 1-16 - 3 Hearthfire - "Rescue"**

**

* * *

**

_Loredas, 3rd of Hearthfire, 3E433  
Time - 6:03 AM  
Location: West of Skingrad, the West Weald, Cyrodiil_

_

* * *

_

Skingrad: the city of Julianos, the Divine of Wisdom and Logic, and famous for its wines, cheeses, and tomatoes (...supposedly). Of all the cities in Cyrodiil, Skingrad was perhaps the most unusual, seeing as to how you needed to cross one of the two bridges to get from the residential half of the city in the south to the business district in the north. It was the business district, specifically, that I was visiting, as not only was this where the businesses were, but also the guild halls.

It had been only about three or so hours of travel when I touched down outside of Skingrad. ...Alright, I admit, more like face-planted _into_ the ground outside of Skingrad. The farther away from Jeanne I was, the better.

Actually, the farther away I was from the Bruma Guard who recognized me from the improvised skiing incident, the better.

Thank heaven for shield spells, else my nose would currently be broken. I spat a mouthful of turf out, trying very quickly to erase the taste of dirt and grass from my tongue. The sound of slow, sarcastic clapping reached my ears from my right.

"Graceful landing, as usual."

The response Killian received was a minor Flare spell, which she ducked. I could still smell a few singed hairs, though. "What was _that_ for!"

"For insulting my ability to land, or lack thereof," I answered, finally having rid myself of the taste of earth. I stood up, brushing myself off before lifting my hood over my head. "At least it wasn't some giant _tree_..."

"Again." Killian gave a shrill laugh as I sent another flare spell at her, which she again dodged. Did she really have to rub it in?

* * *

_Time - 8:01 AM  
Location: Skingrad Mages Guild, Skingrad, the West Weald, Cyrodiil_

We had stopped for a quick bite to eat at the West Weald Inn before heading to the Guild Hall; it was locked before 8 and I didn't want to chance trying and failing to use my Mages Guild Key to get inside. As soon Killian and I had stepped inside, my eyes caught sight of an Argonian woman in blue robes nearby, currently distracted with a book. My lips thinned. Well, here goes nothing...

I took off my hood before approaching. "Erm, excuse me...?"

"What?" The Argonian looked up from me with a slight irritated look on her face. "Who are you? Oh... who cares?" She shut her book, turning to me. "I'm Druja. You want something? Or you just practicing your Cyrodiilic?"

Killian's response was immediately to lean back and shoot me a look of slight surprise - she didn't quite expect what could be considered a rude greeting. I paid no mind to it, instead responding. "Actually, I'm looking for the head mage here..."

Irritation shifted to annoyance on Druja's face. "That would be Adrienne you're looking for. An associate here for a recommendation, I'll bet." I nodded once. "She's just upstairs; should be at the central table. If you ask her about the recommendation, though, don't be surprised if she's annoyed. She doesn't like being interrupted." She now turned to Killian. "Same story for you?"

The pigtailed "twin" immediately raised her hands, waving them in front of her. "Don't mind me! I'm just here to make sure _she_ doesn't get in trouble." I shot Killian a glare over my shoulder as she gave a sheepish grin, directed more towards Druja than me. "For the record, you never saw me and I'm not even here."

Face, meet palm. I let out an irritated sigh. "Please ignore my twin; she's more of a fighter than a mage and she insisted on coming along for the ride."

Druja shot the Shadow Warrior a look that read something along the lines of "You're kidding me, right?". Finally, she shrugged a bit before returning to her book. We both took that as our cue to leave, quickly and quietly heading up the stairs to the second floor of the guild hall, looping around the left as we did so. Sure enough, sitting at the table was another Breton woman, this one dressed in blue velvet with gold-trimmed shoes, a book currently in her hands. _The Eastern Provinces,_ according to the title, which was about Morrowind and Black Marsh - more so Morrowind than Black Marsh. With a quiet sigh, I approached the table; Killian did the smart thing and stuck to the shadows.

I cleared my throat to get the woman's attention. The book snapped shut. Adrienne Berene looked up at me with an angry glare. "I trust you have good reason for interrupting me?"

"I'll keep this short," I answered. "My name is Kieran Herne, Associate. I was informed that you were the resident head for this particular chapter and that I was to speak with you concerning a recommendation."

Ten years ago, I would've been one heck of a lot more intimidated by this woman. Now, however, she was the equivalent of a yipping puppy. I blamed my time in Morrowind and the brief escapade through Oblivion that I knew I was going to have to repeat multiple times over the next few months. The evoker sighed, setting her book down after making certain she had bookmarked her current page, folding her hands in front of her. "I'm afraid I haven't given it much thought. I'm rather busy, you understand; my research occupies nearly _all_ of my time." ('_Researching __what__, precisely? Because right now this looks like serious deja vu from last night,_' I thought, keeping my mouth shut.) Adrienne blinked, looking upwards as she spoke. "Now that I think about it, I _do_ have a small problem concerning Erthor. He's one of the guild mages here; think you can do something about it?"

The sound of skin slapping skin reached our ears; Killian had also facepalmed upon hearing this, causing a confused look to be directed towards her from the Nord in a black and burgundy outfit coming downstairs from the third floor. Adrienne paid no mind to the twin in black and red.

"Shouldn't be _too_ difficult..." I mumbled to myself, knowing full-well that it wasn't necessarily the case. "Very well."

She sighed in relief. "Excellent. I just don't have the time to search for him again, but I do need to consult him about some notes he borrowed. You might want to ask around and see if anyone can be of some help."

"What can you tell me about this Erthor fellow?"

Adrienne suddenly fell silent, trying to find the right words for describing the Bosmer. "He's..." Silence again for a few moments. "Well, he's an interesting fellow. Sulinus Vassinus can tell you more about him if you wish to know. Sulinus should be around here somewhere. He can tell you more about him; I _think_ he's downstairs.

"Back to the subject at hand, have Erthor see me when he gets back and I'll find the time to send in my recommendation, Associate."

My response was a simple nod before I turned around, moving back towards the staircase. Killian still had her hand covering her eyes as she spoke.

"Is this going to be like Bruma again?" she grumbled. "Can we try the book exploding in her face?"

"Scatterbrained Adrienne is, _suck-up _and _Jeanne_ she's not," I whispered in response as we walked back downstairs. "And you'll have a lot more fun this time around, Killian, trust me."

* * *

"I hear you've got quite a task from Adrienne, Miss Herne."

Sulinus Vassinus was a balding Imperial man in the standard Mage's Robes like Druja back in the entrance hall, currently standing in the Alchemy room. Apparently Druja or the Nord from earlier - Vigge the Cautious - had filled him in about my name, so there wasn't necessarily a need for introductions. "What can you tell me about Erthor?"

The Imperial's face became crestfallen. "He's a nice enough guy, I suppose, but there _was_ that awful scamp incident last year. I won't bore you with the details, but believe me, it was bad." Killian suddenly had to restrain herself from laughing, causing me to glare at her. Sulinus raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny, Miss...?"

"Killian Herne; I'm Kieran's twin," answered the pigtailed double. "Just reminds me of a similar incident that Kieran had a few years ago..."

I shot her a look to get her to shut up, but she just kept laughing, now breathless from how much she was doing so. I turned back to Sulinus. "Let's just say that we both have the feeling that Erthor was a bit luckier than I was and I'm not about to go down that particular section of Memory Lane again; ignore her in the meanwhile."

He raised an eyebrow in slight amusement as I looked away. "Tried summoning a scamp?"

"Got something a _lot_ bigger."

"I'll just take your word for it, then. After the scamp incident, though, Adrienne told him that he needed to practice somewhere else." The crestfallen expression came back. "'Somewhere else'... meaning somewhere far away." He sighed, looking out the nearby window. "So he settled down in Bleak Flats Cave. Did all his work there, and came back to town twice a week to check in. Hasn't been around lately, though."

Killian, now having recovered from her laughing attack, began to slowly stand, although she kept her hand on the nearby wall for support. "Bleak Flats Cave, you say? Where's that?"

"It's just northwest of Skingrad."

The voice that had responded was _not_ Sulinus's. Killian jumped, turning around to face a rather grumpy-looking Druja standing in the doorframe behind her. The Argonian gave her an unamused look, to which Killian responded with a sheepish laugh. I raised an eyebrow. "It wouldn't happen to be near a rune stone, would it?"

She nodded, withdrawing a map. "That would be it, right here. I'm presuming you're referring to the Aetherius Stone here, Miss Kieran." She pointed to the locations in question which were, sure enough, just northwest of the city. I nodded. "That's where Erthor wound up, after Adrienne told him he couldn't practice in the guild hall anymore. She probably doesn't even remember that. You might want to make sure she remembers." The Argonian then looked upwards, folding her arms after rolling the map back up. "Especially the part about it being _her_ idea; _Vigge_ can run this place better than she can, but he's just too careful to take the job. Probably a wise decision on his part, but _he_ at least, would be able to do so competently."

Sulinus sighed, hanging his head and shaking it. "Don't get us wrong, Miss Kieran; Adrienne might not be the most pleasant person, I'll admit, but she _does_ know what she's doing."

"In terms of magic, at least," Druja added as an input. "Adrienne may read too much, but you should see the summon spell she taught Vigge. He might teach you, if you're skilled enough."

"And have it backfire?" I asked. "I think I'll pass."

Killian once more found herself laughing her butt off.

* * *

_Time - 9:00 AM  
Location: Bleak Flats Cave, northwest of Skingrad, the West Weald, Cyrodiil_

_"Oh, I __do__ remember telling him to go there. Hm... Well, we'll just have to see about __that__, now, won't we? By 'we', I mean __you__, of course. I have something that may help - it's a basic fireball spell, in case you need to defend yourself. I'll be here when you get back. Good luck!"_

Oh, if I didn't care about attracting the attention of the Dark Brotherhood and get myself kicked out of the guild, I was going to kill that woman once I got back.

First things first, though: get through this cave alive and get Erthor out. Alive.

Killian looked at me as I held onto Auriel's Bow tightly. I was already beginning to shake, and not from the cold. "What's with you?"

"I want in. And then out. And then as far away from this place as soon as possible," I answered, knocking an arrow into place. "Get ready for a lot of hacking and slashing, and I apologize now for any burns you might suffer while we're in here." I began to move forward, drawing the arrow back and getting ready to fire at the first moving target I could.

"Why? What do we need literal firepower fo-?"

The shadow's sentence was cut off by the familiar groaning sound of zombies.

"_These guys._"

I immediately let an arrow fly at the undead now beginning to hobble quickly towards us, the first of seven in this cavern. I couldn't stress how much I absolutely _hated_ these things - limbs about ready to fall off, chunks of flesh missing from the limbs that _were_ visible, capable of carrying disease, and _that damn smell...!_ I launched a large fireball at the deranged zombie before Killian rushed forward, wrist blades out. The double didn't take long to slice the zombie to pieces.

Lather, rinse, and repeat. For _six. More. Zombies._

_

* * *

_

"Kill it, kill it, kill it, kill it, _kill it!_"

Splurch. I was getting hysterical at this point. I just kept shooting and firing as many fireball spells as I could; Adrienne's "weak" fireball was becoming the most lethal tool in my arsenal thanks to my increased magicka.

By the time the final zombie was dead (again?) I was already beginning to turn bone white from terror and straining to keep myself from screaming my lungs off. Killian, however, was giggling like a little schoolgirl, ready for another kill. I finally sighed in relief upon remembering that all seven were dead. That meant...

"Hello?" I called out, heading farther into the cave. There was one other person here, I could see that from my detect life spell. "Erthor? I know you're still alive - we're here to escort you back to Skingrad."

The room we entered was one that was furnished somewhat with a chair, table, and bedroll, basically functioning as a sort of makeshift laboratory and living quarters in the area. From the shadows nearby, a Bosmer crept out nervously as I returned Auriel's Bow to its normal resting position. He was dark haired, some of it starting to gray slightly, with grayish-green eyes and wearing a quilted doublet, tan linens, and a pair of doeskin shoes. He looked around nervously, afraid that there might've been more of the zombies.

"They're all gone? I can leave the cave?" he asked. I nodded. He sighed in relief. "Oh, _thank you!_ I'm _ever_ so grateful! You're heading back to Skingrad, aren't you? Could I... maybe come with you? It'd be safer, I think. So, what do you say?"

Again, I nodded. "Adrienne needs to speak with you about some notes you borrowed or something like that. Come on; we'd best get moving, preferably before more of them could possibly show up. _Possibly_."

Erthor nodded as well as I quickly walked towards the area that had the movable wall. The sooner we were out of this cave, the better.

* * *

_Time - 11:52 AM  
Location: Skingrad Mages Guild, Skingrad, the West Weald, Cyrodiil_

"...and when the scamp was finally gone, Adrienne was _furious_. I was expecting to be expelled. But she told me to stop practicing in the guild hall, instead, so I had to move out to Bleak Flats Cave. It was a bit amusing, though, seeing her covered in paint and with feathers sticking everywhere. Sulinus said that they were cleaning up feathers for the next week."

I giggled a bit as Killian outright burst out laughing. So _that_ was how the scamp incident had turned out.

"A lot better than what happened to me, at least," I informed as we entered the Mages Guild Hall. "My magicka tends to act a bit oddly, and I got lucky enough to meet Master-Wizard Myrrdin. Well, he rescued me, at least, but he taught me a lot during my stay at Frostcrag. Conjuration practice was...very eventful each time."

"What happened?"

We turned to the right, beginning to climb the stairs. "Each and every time I tried to summon something, I got something different. I try to summon a skeleton, I got a wraith instead. I try to summon a wraith, I get a zombie. I try to summon a zombie, I get a skeleton champion. I try to summon a scamp, I get a freakin' _Storm Atronach._ And that's not even the worst of 'em. Might've been because I visited Tel Fyr in Morrowind and trained with Divayth Fyr and other individuals there, but there have been times that I've tried to summon a Scamp and instead got a Winged Twilight or Golden Saint."

Erthor's amusement was evident, though he attempted to restrain his laughter. We had to shift conversation, however, upon seeing Adrienne, still at the table reading her book. The Bosmer mage quickly approached the older Breton woman. "Adrienne! I'm back! I was rescued!"

The Breton in blue looked up, bookmarking her place before closing her book. "So it would seem. You are unharmed, I presume?"

"Well, my _pride_ is a little wounded..." started Erthor, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Oh, spare me. You're lucky I even bothered to send someone for you at all. In the future, would you _please_ be more careful?"

"Err... well, yes. I'll just pack up my supplies and be on my way, then. Thank you for sending someone to help me."

With a nod and a silent sigh of disappointment, Erthor turned and left the area, but smiled and gave Killian and I a nod of thanks before vanishing downstairs. I approached Adrienne before she could open her book. She noticed me quickly.

"Hello, Associate. I've spoken with Erthor, who seems to be all right. Good work. I'll see to it that your recommendation is sent in as soon as I have a free moment. As I've said, I'm rather busy. I'll get to it eventually, though, I assure you." She nodded.

I nodded in response. "I figured that this would also be a good time to thank you for teaching me that spell. Erthor was in a bit of a jam, and I'm not certain of foul play was involved with his...being stuck, for lack of a better term."

Adrienne raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

I was immediately serious again. "There were zombies inside Bleak Flats Cave. The weak fireball spell you taught me was the best spell I could use in there."

Surprise was evident on the chapter head's face. "You believe... that Erthor may have been targeted by necromancers?"

"The suspicion is there, but I lack any evidence to prove it. With necromancy banned by the Mages Guild, I would not be surprised if there were individuals with the intent to lash out in protest."

Her expression was grim. "True. I'll be sure to note that in my recommendation as well, Associate. But if your suspicion is true, then please, do be careful. The last thing any of us need is to lose a promising associate because of a protest turn violent."

A bitter smile crossed my face. "With all due respect, ma'am... I've survived worse."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Shock! Horror! Total apathy! [/sarcasm] Yes, I updated. Barely. This chapter. Has been giving me. SO. MUCH. GRIEF. ARGH, it's crap, I know. Anvil's MG Recommendation should be a lot better than this one.

_Edgedancer_ is also undergoing partial rewrite and will be updated once I get around to all of it. This is partially because its sister series is finally getting updated and getting sent to me, and partially because I noticed certain inconsistencies in previous chapters. Eheheh... whoops. ^^;

_Next Chapter:_ The Anvil Mages Guild Recommendation, involving subterfuge and bringing a rogue mage murderer to justice.

Until next chapter…

_- Kestrel Harper_


	17. 1XVII: 4 Hearthfire Undercover

**Author's Note: **Alright, alright, fine… I feel guilty now. So here's a few more chapters to hopefully tide you over, and hopefully I'll be able to continue working on it.

* * *

_**Edgedancer  
**_**Act 1 - "Ending Beginning"**_**  
**Chapter 1-17 - 4 Hearthfire - "Undercover"_

* * *

_Loredas, 3 Hearthfire, 3E433  
Time - 5:04 PM  
Location: Anvil Mages Guild Hall, Anvil, the Gold Coast, Cyrodiil_

"Hello, Associate. To earn a recommendation from me, you need simply prove you are able-bodied and prepared to learn something in the process. Unlike some other frivolous tasks you may be given at other guild halls, this is a serious matter, and has consequences. Are you prepared?"

Carahil was easily the most serious highest-ranked member of the Mages Guild I had met so far. The woman was an Altmer Spellsword, with vibrant green eyes sticking out from a few strands of loose blonde hair that had been pulled back into a bun. She was clearly of nobility, wearing a black and burgundy dress with a matching pair of gold-trimmed shoes. She was a lot like me, to be honest - straight, to the point, and serious when the situation called to be serious. Unlike me, her default expression was _not_ set to scowl. I nodded once in response to Carahil's inquiry; it had been rather obvious as to why was here as soon as I stepped through the doors to the Guild Hall.

A small smile crossed the wizard's lips. "Then allow me to explain the task. The Council of Mages has entrusted me with resolving a situation along the Gold Road. Several traveling merchants have been found dead along the Gold Road recently, with even more missing." She stood up from her seat at this point, putting her book down and moving around the table to get a better look at my (short) figure. "The Council has asked that I put a stop to it. _You _are going to help me do so."

I raised an eyebrow from beneath my hood as Carahil crossed the room towards a map of Cyrodiil. "Isn't that a bit dangerous, to send an Associate out for such a task?"

"Indeed, it may well be. I see no reason to shelter you from situations the guild deals with on a daily basis. This is the important work, the work that matters. I have no time for guilt recruits who are useless in the field. This will be an excellent way to prove yourself." There was a small hint of confidence in the way she spoke, however. Almost as if she already knew I was capable of getting the job done.

"Why me, then? Why not another Associate or even a Journeyman?"

"As you are new to the guild, you are less likely of being recognized as a member. This may give you an advantage in getting to the root of the problem."

My response was a small smirk. "Clever. A risky gamble, though. Please continue, milady."

Carahil's expression immediately darkened. "We believe the killings are the actions of a rogue mage. Battlemages have been sent to the Brina Cross Inn, the only common link between the victims. You are to travel north to the Brina Cross Inn and speak with Arielle Jurard. She will give you further instructions." She then turned towards the map, pointing to a small point near Kvatch. "The Inn is located here, about halfway between Anvil and Kvatch if you travel by road."

"I remember passing by it on my way here, though I gave it little mind," I noted, approaching the map and folding my arms. My eyes narrowed slightly. "You said the targets are traveling merchants?"

The wizard nodded, eyes closing. "It's a sad thing, to think that a mage would kill helpless merchants for the wares they carry."

"Agreed. But it also places the situation right into my field of expertise - subterfuge," I said. "Present myself as a possible target, flush out the culprit, and if worse comes to worst, eliminate him. But why would a mage go rogue, unless they were bandits or hedge wizards of some sort?"

There was a bitter sound in Carahil's voice as she spoke. "Some mages do not abide by the principles of the guild, and operate outside its boundaries. Many hold little value for the lives of others." She turned around, moving back towards the table. "The frost burns found on the victims in this case indicate a mage was responsible for their deaths. Likely nothing more than simple robbery." She picked up three scrolls near her book at this point before turning around and handing them to me. "These scrolls should provide sufficient resistance to frost magic, when and if you do encounter this rogue mage. _Use them wisely._"

"I'll pray that I'll not have to use them, then," I answered. "Any additional advice you can give me for if and when I encounter this rogue mage, as I have a pretty bad feeling that I will?"

"The scrolls I have given you should protect you from the magic the mage seems to use most frequently, but do not let your guard down. He may have more tricks up his sleeve."

"Even if he does..." I opened the scroll-pouch on my belt, adding the three scrolls of Frost Shell to the collection. "...he'll find that I have a _lot_ more up mine." I turned back towards Carahil at this point, standing up straight before bowing. "I shall return when the rogue mage has been apprehended."

Again, Carahil nodded as I turned towards the door. Before I left, however, she gave one last warning. "Do _not_ let your guard down. We do not know whether the Inn's staff is involved somehow."

My last response was a nod before I vanished from the Anvil Mages Guild Hall.

* * *

_Time - 7:02 PM  
Location: Brina Cross Inn, the Gold Road, the Gold Coast, Cyrodiil_

The sun was setting by the time Killian and I arrived at the Brina Cross Inn. While Killian was in her usual attire, I wasn't. I was currently dressed in a dark shirt, black wide pants, and a pair of doeskin shoes, switching out my normal cloak for a black one, with the hood remaining up. The only visible weapon I had was my elven dagger, which was sheathed on my left hip.

"I say we kill her and just get it over with," growled Killian, now leaning against a barrel and glaring at the nearby man dressed in steel plate armor currently taking care of his horse - one of the two Battlemages that had been sent to investigate the current crisis. I sent my double a glare, who glared in response. "Well, it would certainly take care of the problem!"

"And would also send the Dark Brotherhood on my tail," I answered. "Which is something that I do _not_ want at this point in time." I noticed her smirk at the sound of my statement, but decided not to question it. "If you want, head out to one of the nearby caves or just clear out the area of predatory wildlife. I'm not leaving until morning, anyway."

Killian shrugged, stuck out her tongue, and then turned to move around the corner of the actual inn itself before vanishing. There were times I wondered about my shadow, really.

I entered the Brina Cross Inn, heading downstairs to the main floor where three people were already waiting: a Breton man in doeskin shoes, a quilted doublet, and tan linens; an Altmer noblewoman with blonde hair dressed in a blue velvet dress and matching blue suede shoes (Caminalda, my target); and another Breton woman in middle-class clothing, namely a brown doublet and linens with a pair of pigskin shoes, her brown hair cropped short and dark brown eyes alert. This was Arielle Jurard, the woman I needed to speak to. I quickly approached her.

"Excuse me..." I began, catching her attention.

Arielle turned towards me with a smile. "Hello, stranger? What can I do for you?" She glanced around quickly before dropping her voice to a whisper. "Carahil has sent you, has she not?" I nodded in confirmation, saying nothing. She then motioned towards the bar, where the Breton man and the Altmer woman were currently speaking. "Go and speak with Christophe. Rent a room for the night. Once you have your room, I will meet you there. If anyone asks, you are a traveling merchant, nothing more. Do not say otherwise to anyone."

"Masquerading as a merchant is exactly what I had planned, anyway," I whispered in response. Arielle gave a slight nod before speaking loudly and rather obnoxiously.

"No, friend; I'm afraid I don't know the way to Cheydinhal, but good luck on your travels. Please excuse me." And with that, she turned towards one of the tables before sitting down. I turned away as well, approaching the Breton man as he finished conversation with the Altmer woman, who now moved away from the bar.

The Breton man, Christophe Marane, addressed me first. "Welcome to the Brina Cross Inn. Can I interest you in something to eat, or perhaps a bed for the night?"

"Yes, actually, I'd like to rent a room for the night."

He gave a saddened smile. "Let me guess: traveling on business? You don't look like you're out for a stroll."

I nodded. "Yes, I'm a traveling merchant; wish it were just a normal stroll, however."

"Ah, yes, thought so." He nodded in response. "We get many of them traveling through here. Well, we used to. Haven't seen as many lately, what with the... well, you know. The murders. I don't like to talk about it much, as it's bad for business. At any rate, would you care for a bed for the night?"

"I'll take it," I answered, withdrawing my gold pouch. "How much?"

"Ten gold." I handed over the pieces. "Right, then. The bed is just upstairs, at the back of the inn. Sleep well."

With a final nod of thanks, I turned to my left, intent on heading up the stairs and past the Redguard maid that was currently attending the cooking fire. My current path, however, was broken by the Altmer noblewoman, who sounded a bit surprised.

"Pardon me... but did I hear you say that you were a traveling merchant?"

I turned towards the Altmer, nodding. "Yes, that's right."

The woman I knew to be the murderer was a rather good actress, feigning worry. "Don't you worry, what with the recent killings and all? I'd be ever so scared, if it were me. I haven't left the Inn in days, just in case!"

"Well, when push comes to shove, what needs to be done needs to be done," I informed. "If I don't get my wares to Cheydinhal this month, well, I risk possible foreclosure on my house."

"You're a very brave woman, then," answered Caminalda, nodding. "Well, you take care of yourself. I'd hate to hear about another senseless death. Good luck to you!"

With a nod, I resumed my course, heading upstairs. I then moved towards the back of that particular hall to the final door, opening it. The inn room was rather modest, but also suited the meeting about to go underway. I withdrew my pocket watch, checking the time. It was almost eight now.

Footsteps caught my attention as Arielle Jurard entered the room. I closed the door behind her. "Should be safer with a door between us if we keep our voices down."

"Wise decision," noted Arielle as I turned to face her. "Once you've rested here, you need to continue along the Gold Road, heading east towards Kvatch. I will be following out of sight, along with a fellow Battlemage. Make no attempts to speak to us; trust that we will protect you. Should you be confronted by this cowardly mage, do not hesitate to protect yourself by whatever means possible. Once the mage has revealed himself, we will step in and settle the matter quickly. Now get yourself some _sleep!_ You need to be well rested."

"As do you," I noted. I reached into my belt before withdrawing about four potions. "Two to fortify magicka, the other two to fortify health. My own personal recipe and it's gotten me out of a number of situations before. I just hope you won't need them."

Arielle blinked in surprise before smiling, taking the potions. "Are you certain?"

"To be honest, Arielle, I'm more worried about _my_ magicka than I am the rogue's," I answered. Arielle raised an eyebrow at me in confusion. "Pray you don't see it in action, Miss Jurard. I'll just leave it at that."

The woman nodded in acknowledgement before opening the door and leaving the room, closing the door behind her. With a sigh, I collapsed onto the bed, intent on getting a good night's sleep.

How I _wished_ that I'd get a good night's sleep.

* * *

_Sundas, 4 Hearthfire, 3E433  
Time - 6:03 AM  
Location: Brina Cross Inn, Gold Road, the Gold Coast, Cyrodiil_

When I awoke the next morning, it was to a cold dawn. I wasn't quite awake immediately, but I had a restless sleep. Shaking my head to clear the grogginess currently clouding my mind, I got up to my feet, drawing my hood over my head, and then stepped outside into the hallway. Not very many people were conscious at this point in the morning, I didn't think, but Caminalda was notably absent, and Killian was standing near the doorway leading outside, leaning against the wall with her arms folded and tapping her heel impatiently. Her eyes opened as she shifted her head towards me.

"So... Do we get to kill her?" she asked quietly, grinning.

"Only if she doesn't come quietly," I answered in a whisper. "She specializes in frost spells, and so do I, but I'm pretty certain which of the two of us is the better mage."

Killian wasn't impressed. "That's assuming she doesn't try to cast Silence on you." And there was an edge to her statement that indicated that she did _not_ want this to happen.

I nodded once in confirmation. "I don't think she has that spell, though. She couldn't use illusion spells in-game, and Silence is from the school of illusion."

"Don't blame me for being overly cautious," my pigtailed double grumbled as we stepped outside, drawing her own hood up over her head.

Arielle Jurard and the other Battlemage, Roliand Hanus, were both outside near the stables, hoods up and dressed in steel armor. Both of us vanished through the gate, heading east towards Kvatch. Killian was mumbling something about spriggans and how she was in desperate need of another challenge. I decided to run, partially as a masquerade about being worried of a possible merchant-murderer, partially to make sure that Arielle and Roliand weren't caught in possible magicka blasts. We were about halfway to Kvatch when Caminalda finally emerged from the bushes, looking about ready to kill.

"I'm afraid your journey ends here, traveler. I'll be taking whatever you're carrying. After you're dead of course. I do hope it's more than the last few had. They were most disappointing."

Killian and I both glanced at each other as Arielle and Roliand rushed to catch up with us. We nodded at each other, much to Caminalda's confusion, as smirks crossed our faces. Immediately, the Altmer woman attempted to use a frost spell of some sort on me as Killian rushed around behind her.

Caminalda didn't expect to have her own spell reflected _back_ at her.

I suddenly mumbled something under my breath, summoning a sphere of blue magicka to my left hand. "Two can play at that game, milady."

With one fluid motion, I slammed the sphere down onto the ground at Caminalda's feet, causing the area around her to immediately freeze her feet to the spot. Caminalda attempted to move, only to resort to ranged frost spells. She wasn't going to come quietly.

She also didn't expect to have Killian's wrist blade suddenly strike her through the back and out the front of her chest.

The kill was quick, and within seconds, the rogue mage fell over onto the road, the ice at her feet melting as water mixed with blood. Arielle and Roliand now reached us as I folded my arms, taking a deep breath before sighing. "Some people..."

My pigtailed double wasn't very amused as she withdrew a bloodstained cloth, beginning to clean the blood off her blades. Both Battlemages blanched a bit before sighing. Arielle turned towards me. "I didn't know you brought backup."

"She's my twin," I answered, "and she's bored. _Very_ bored."

"And the last thing I need is _her_ dying," added Killian, motioning towards me as she examined her wrist blades again. "Mum would throw a _fit._"

If Arielle suspected anything, she didn't show it, instead turning towards Caminalda's dead body. "You've done well, though - immobilizing her before having to defend yourself isn't something that most people would consider using nowadays, but then again, I don't think I've seen anyone with the magicka to do it. The Gold Road should be a little safer for now. You should return to Anvil and let Carahil know the work is complete. We'll remain here and clean things up."

My response was a single nod of confirmation as Killian and I made our way back west towards Anvil. Nothing more was said.

* * *

_Time - 9:00 AM  
Location: Anvil Mages Guild Hall, Anvil, Gold Coast, Cyrodiil_

"A she, you say? And she's dead?" Caminalda was a bit surprised at the sound of this. Now that I was back in my armor, I felt much more at ease, and I was now at "strictly business" mode. Caminalda sighed, tired. This was a relief, but at the same time, I could tell that she didn't want to have a final death on her hands if she could help it. "No more innocent deaths. At least, for now. You have done... well enough for yourself. I shall pass along my recommendation to Raminus."

The Altmer reached over for a piece of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle, inking said quill before beginning to write. She spoke again, but bitterly. "Though I must say I doubt it will do you much good in the end. You'd be surprised how easily they forget about the little people." She stopped writing for a moment. "What was your name again, associate?"

"Kieran," I answered. "Kieran Herne. K-I-E-R-A-N H-E-R-N-E."

Caminalda nodded, copying down the letters I spoke. "An interesting name, Miss Herne. I don't think I recognize the language..."

"Not very many would," I replied. "Before I arrived in Cyrodiil, I was part of a somewhat isolated community from the rest of the world. It was a bit of a hassle to get out of the village in the first place. As for _where_ in Tamriel it is, I'd rather not say. I'm not going back - not anytime soon."

"Falling out with your family?" Caminalda asked, looking up at me.

My eyes closed as I turned towards the side. "Less of that, more wanderlust... and searching for an old friend of mine. Besides... I figured it a good idea to get out and see what I could learn, anyway. Especially about my magicka. Parents always wanted me to become something great. Why not at something I'm good at?"

She smiled. "Ambition is a common theme among most mages, but something tells me that you have a wise enough heart to know when and how to stop if it starts going too far." She then finished the recommendation. "I wish you good luck, Miss Herne. Keep up the good work, and you'll be at the Arcane University in no time."

* * *

**Author's Note: **ARGH, short again. Sorry...


	18. 1XVIII: 6 Hearthfire Traitor

_**Edgedancer  
**_**Act 1 - "Ending Beginning"**_**  
**Chapter 1-18 - 6 Hearthfire - "Traitor"_

* * *

_Tirdas, 6th of Hearthfire, 3E433  
Time - 7:20 PM  
Location - Cheydinhal Mages Guild Hall, Cheydinhal, County Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil_

Bravil was really rather...boring. Really, nothing more than a gopher quest, and with little of interest. I had avoided the statue of the Lucky Old Lady like the plague, though. Something about it put me off, _really_ put me off. And with very good reason.

Right underneath that statue was the tomb of the Dark Brotherhood's Night Mother.

As soon as I had finished earning my recommendation from Kud-Ei in Bravil, I had bolted from town.

Now, though, I was in Cheydinhal, the city of Arkay, and a particular favorite of mine. Cheydinhal showed evidence of Dunmer influence in its architecture, and was ruled by Count Andel Indarys of House Hlaalu. I had always liked the Dunmer and their culture, be they members of the Tribunal Temple or worshipers of Daedra and their own ancestors. The fact that it was at the end of the Blue Road might also have been a factor, as blue was my favorite color.

The fact that I liked this city, though, did nothing to lift my somewhat foul mood. The pouring rain outside was a small contributing factor to my annoyance, but it wasn't the main one.

"What is it, Associate? Don't tell me you're here for a recommendation."

The main one was _this_ jerk.

Falcar was an Altmer, like Carahil, and as the highest ranked member of the Cheydinhal Guild Hall he was also chapter head, but unlike Carahil, this man was a conceited snob and a _necromancer_ on top of it. Not like anyone else knew that here, really. But it was the fact that I knew he was a traitor to the Mages Guild that _really_ got me. He was a bit old, with slicked back silver hair and steel-blue eyes, adding a physical intimidation factor to his already snappish attitude. Combined with the fact that he was dressed in a black and burgundy outfit with matching gold-trimmed shoes, he screamed "snobby nobleman" as soon as you set eyes on him.

"Sorry to say that I am," I answered, not really meaning the apology. I had to play this cool, else risk completely mucking this recommend up. The Altmer man gave an aggravated sigh; he clearly did _not_ want to deal with me right now.

"Don't waste my time if you're not ready for this." '_Fool, I've been ready for the past five years. I'd start __packing__, if I were you._' "Are you prepared to do what is necessary to earn a recommendation from me?"

I folded my arms. "I wouldn't be here if it were otherwise, _sir._" Oh, the venom dripping from that final word...

His eyes narrowed. I wasn't hiding my dislike of the man, and unlike others, who were simply intimidated, I was looking at him straight in the eye, despite my hood. "Hmph. Very well. We shall see how prepared you actually are." '_Translation: I don't like you. You aren't scared. I'm going to have to get rid of you and __quickly__._' I felt both my hands clench into fists as Falcar continued. "There was a particular ring of Burden I was testing some time ago. Another stupid Associate somehow got his hands on it and managed to misplace it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he purposely tossed it down the well behind the guilt hall. Why he would do such a stupid thing is beyond me."

'_You __drowned him__,_' I thought, eyes narrowing slightly. I still remained silent, however. "You will retrieve this ring for me. Should you manage to do so, I shall consider sending a recommendation to the University. The well is locked, so you'll need the key. Deetsan should have a copy of it. Now get moving."

I remained silent, instead nodding once before moving past him and upstairs to the western end of the hall, hearing the door to the hall open and then close as someone left. Standing in front of the alchemy table, surrounded by light within a yard radius, was an Argonian woman in a blue velvet outfit with matching blue suede shoes. I cleared my throat as I approached, lifting a fist to my face as if trying to suppress a cough, causing her to turn towards me. "Sincerest of apologies for interrupting you, milady. I'm Kieran Herne."

She smiled. "I'm Deetsan. Magician. Mages Guild, that is." She nodded in introduction. "New to Cheydinhal?"

"The county, no. The city itself, yes. I'm here for my second-to-last recommendation; Falcar said you had the key to the well."

The expression on the Argonian's face was that of restrained horror. "Oh, no... Don't tell me he gave you the same task he gave Vidkun!" She turned back towards the door, where Falcar was when I spoke with him earlier. I glanced about the hall as well. Falcar was gone. The Magician lowered her voice to a much quieter volume. "We can talk, so long as Falcar is out of earshot. If I didn't know any better..." She glanced off to the side at this point, "...I'd say he's trying to get you killed!"

_BANG!_

Everyone still present in the hall - especially Deetsan, having been so close to the source of the explosion - jumped, turning towards me as I looked about ready to strangle something. I glared up at the tarot card that had launched itself skyward, which I then magicked to my hand. I immediately flipped it over to see what it was.

VIII of Swords, ill-dignified.

"Malicious thoughts and bad news," I said. "I think you're on the right track, milady."

Deetsan waved her hands in front of her sheepishly. "Please, no need for titles here. Just Deetsan is fine, Miss Herne."

"Very well. Still, like I said..." I glanced back towards the door of the guild hall. "Tell me about what happened between Falcar and Vidkun. There's something about that man that I don't like. Can't quite pin it down."

"Don't let him catch you saying that - he's the highest ranked member of the guild here," Deetsan warned. "Well... Falcar gave Vidkun the exact same task, and we never saw Vidkun again. I'm reasonably sure there's a connection, but I can't prove it. You must be very intuitive if you've been finding him that uncomfortable to be around without even knowing him for more than half an hour. Do be careful. I'd hate to lose another useful Associate." The Argonian reached for a pouch on the table, withdrawing a metal object from it before placing it in my hand. "Here's the key... and something extra." She then handed me a piece of paper with what I recognized as a spell formula. "I don't know if it'll be of use to you, but from what I've heard of Falcar's ring, it _may_ come in handy. And if you find out anything about what happened to Vidkun, let me know, will you?"

I nodded, pocketing the key before turning my attention to the formula. Time to start memorizing...

* * *

_Time - 8:01 PM  
Location: Cheydinhal Mages Guild Well, behind the Mages Guild Hall, Cheydinhal, County Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil_

"...First sewers, now wells? Really, Kieran?"

I glared at Killian as I removed my belt. Though I had spelled my cards and the pouch they and their pocket-book were held in, I didn't want to take the chance of possible water damage from swimming. I handed my pigtailed double the belt with a look of annoyance. The lamps had been lit as the sun, hidden from view by the dark rain clouds above us, dipped over the western horizon. "I told you I was going to have to do this."

"But really? _Wells?_"

The unamused expression on my face never left. "The sooner I pull out that corpse and that damn ring, the better. 'Sides, I know what's in the other well, and it's definitely not water." I withdrew the well key from one of my other spare pouches, unlocking the grating of the Mages Guild well. "You wouldn't happen to have seen the prestidigitator that is the resident chapter head, have you?"

Killian shrugged. "I had other business to attend to. I haven't seen him around at all, I'm afraid." Then she blinked. "Did you really just call Falcar a prestidigitator? Do you even know what that _means?_"

A smirk crossed my face as I began to climb into the well. "Indicates that his 'magic' is nothing more than sleight of hand. I swear he's nothing more than a stuck-up snob with nothing _but_ cheap parlor tricks."

"Compared to you, Kieran, _everyone_ has nothing but cheap parlor tricks."

"Everyone including Sotha Sil and Aodh?" Killian didn't have a response to that one, or the half-glare I was giving her. "I didn't think so."

With that said, I slipped down into the well and into the water with a splash, very thankful that I had gotten the Jewel of the Rumare almost as soon as I had left the Imperial City.

* * *

Damn it, I couldn't _see!_ ...Ah, there we go - Night Eye, just when I needed it. Nothing out of place so far, and... oh, great. There's our drowned corpse. Poor, poor Vidkun - he looked rather young for a Nord, and now... I grabbed the extremely heavy ring from his finger, immediately beginning to feel the weight attempt to drag me down to the bottom of the well. I mouthed a Feather spell to lighten the load, then grabbed Vidkun's corpse, swimming back towards the ladder.

Deetsan was going to have a fit.

I climbed up, dropping the ring over the edge before hauling Vidkun's corpse up and out of the well. Killian caught sight of me and the dead Nord immediately, rushing over. I was beginning to reach a fever pitch of anger towards Falcar at this point.

...and who the hell was that walking away from Killian wearing dark clothing? He looked a lot like a rather familiar Breton...

* * *

"I'm afraid some things have happened while you've been gone, Associate."

The Argonian Magician looked faintly apologetic as I attempted to squeeze the well-water out of my hair and into a bucket in front of me. My hood, which I had left _outside_ the well with my belt and Killian, was going to be pretty damp, though. I glanced at Deetsan from beneath my hood. "You confronted Falcar, told him you helped me, threatened to report him to the Council of Mages, and then he suddenly lost his temper, began ranting, and then stormed out?" Deetsan blinked in surprise. I gave my hair another good twist. "I came here with my twin sister - she heard the whole thing. Including how the guild's days are supposedly numbered. I _knew_ there was something about that man I didn't like, and it wasn't just his moronic attitude. There's no need for an apology, either. Besides, I'm quite certain he's going to be charged with murder if he's ever found."

"_Murder?_" Deetsan repeated, not liking where I was going. My lips thinned.

"I found Vidkun. In the well. Drowned. I asked that my twin - Killian - find the guard, report what we found. The ring of Burden's still outside by the well; it can be used as evidence against Falcar if he ever shows his face again."

Within seconds, Deetsan was suddenly a few shades of green paler than Argonians should be. "But...why deliberately murder an Associate? And attempt to murder another one?"

I tucked my hair back into my hood at this point. I would have to deal with the damp. "I have a suspicion as to why, but I'd have to investigate Falcar's quarters myself, I'm afraid. With your permission, Deetsan, I'd like to do just that."

"Why do I get the feeling that what you're going to find isn't going to be a possible recommendation letter?"

"Because if that bastard _did_ write one, then I'm going to have to ask when Sheogorath became the Tenth Divine."

* * *

Falcar's quarters were located in the basement, separate from the other dorm room to the northern end of the floor and on the west side of the building. It didn't take long for me to locate the set of locked drawers I was looking for, right next to the bed. I withdrew a lockpick from my belt, crouching low to get a good look at the keyhole. I had gotten so used to this since my arrival to Nirn that lockpicking was quickly becoming second nature to me, which was a bit frightening to me. The lock, however, wasn't all that complex. Within seconds, I had both tumblers lined up and the drawers open.

Inside were two black-colored stones about the length of my hand, from the base of my palm to the tip of my middle finger. Black Soul Gems.

I withdrew my evidence before closing the drawer, storming out of the basement with electricity beginning to crackle around me. I had to calm myself down before exiting the room. The last thing I wanted was my temper to become literally explosive.

* * *

Deetsan was at the alchemy table that had a chair in front of it when I emerged from the basement, annoyed as hell. She turned to me upon approach, then caught sight of my rather annoyed expression. I didn't say a word as I held up the two stones, then handed them to her.

"What's this? Black Soul Gems?" she asked, shocked. I nodded, folding my arms. For the second time that day, Deetsan paled. "Oh, dear. This is worse than I'd expected." She placed the two stones on the table in front of her, next to a collection of blank parchment with a nearby inkwell and quill. "Alright. I'll just take these from you. I'll need them for my report to the Council. You didn't find any sort of recommendation?"

I shook my head in response. "Again, if he _had_ written one, I'd have to ask when Sheogorath became the Tenth Divine."

She sighed. "Very well. I shall write one myself and include it in my report to the council. In light of the circumstances, I believe they'll find it more than adequate."

The door opened, causing Deetsan and I to turn. Killian now entered the Guild Hall, turning towards me. My lips thinned. "Any sign of him?"

Killian shook her head. "The Guard and I looked everywhere. The damn git's vanished, Kieran. Must've slipped off as soon as he lost his temper and left the Hall."

A sigh of annoyance escaped my lips. "_Damn..._"

Deetsan stood up, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You did what you could. Thank you both for helping us with this; I don't think anyone else here in the Cheydinhal Mages Guild could stand another day of Falcar's tyranny, let alone another week. Is this your final recommendation, Kieran?"

My eyes closed before I shook my head. Deetsan removed her hand from my shoulder. "No. I've still got one last recommendation to go. Leyawiin. I wanted to save that one for last, as Mysticism is my favorite college and one of my best subjects. Besides..." I withdrew four tarot cards at this point, gazing at them with a sort of melancholic look. The High Priestess, the Star, Strength, and the Moon. "...I didn't want to go there until I felt I was ready. Visiting the Bruma Mages Guild for that recommendation was a bit hard in and of itself, and not because of the task given to me." Deetsan looked at me in confusion. I turned back to the Magician. "Did you ever know Master-Wizard Myrrdin Carlow of Frostcrag Spire?"

Recognition crossed her face. "Myrrdin? Of course! Until a few years ago, he regularly visited each of the Guild Halls after his retirement to his Spire. I'm surprised you know about him, Kieran. Why do you ask?"

"He's the one who encouraged me to join the Guild in the first place, after he rescued me from blood loss and/or freezing to death a few years ago," I explained. "He was like my adoptive grandfather. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be as good with manipulating and controlling my own magicka as I am now. He was good friends with the chapter head of the Leyawiin Mages Guild. I've been nervous about seeing her, since he mentioned me to her in their correspondences."

The familiar look of empathy flashed through Deetsan's eyes. "I'm noting the word _was_. He...passed away recently?"

I nodded. "About three weeks ago." I returned the cards to their holder. "He left me Frostcrag Spire in its entirety. I'll have to restock it, but I plan on restoring it to its full glory around the same time I enter the Arcane University. Which, if I keep up the pace I'm at, should be in about three days time. Hopefully in about three days time."

Deetsan nodded. "Then I won't keep you. You can both stay here for the night, if you plan on leaving early enough to reach Leyawiin at a reasonable time. Kieran, you might want to speak with Trayvond and Orintur before you leave in the morning; Cheydinhal specializes in Alteration, and if you need to learn more about it, I can give you basic training in it."

A smile crossed my face. "Thanks, Deetsan."


	19. 1XIX: 7 Hearthfire Seer

_**Edgedancer  
**_**Act 1 - "Ending Beginning"**_**  
**Chapter 1-19 - 7 Hearthfire - "Seer"_

* * *

_Middas, 7th of Hearthfire, 3E433  
Time - 11:16 AM  
Location: Leyawiin Mages Guild Hall, Leyawiin, Blackwood, Cyrodiil_

It was almost midday when Killian and I arrived in Leyawiin, drenched and slightly bloodied from the bandit and highwayman attacks we had been through on our way. Killian and I split soon after entering the city through the North-East gates, with Killian claiming she had "something to check up on" in the meanwhile. It wasn't the first time the Shadow Warrior had gone off and left me alone while I did my own thing - she was with Aodh (or at least in the same area as him) for the past six years until all of this came up anyway. You could only barely tell the time, though, as the clouds were thick and the rain heavy, leaving the streets of Leyawiin somewhat muddy as I quickly passed through them.

The Leyawiin Mages Guild Hall was an impressive sight, really - a medium-sized building three floors high, with a pair of double-doors as the entrance. I rushed through these doors, hell-bent on getting out of the rain before I came down with a cold. The last thing I needed was to get _sick_, either for the Guild Recommendation _or_ for chasing after the Mythic Dawn.

_Damn,_ I was so cold... I _hated_ how cloaks never really kept you warm once they were soaked with frelling cold rain.

Movement from my right. The sound of a book closing and someone standing up. I looked up from my mud-covered boots at the old Bosmer Battlemage that now turned to look at me, slightly surprised.

Dagail was getting on in years, with her silver-gray hair styled into an updo that I definitely could never get my hair to mimic, no matter how much hair gel or hairspray I used and dark eyes that shone with both great wisdom and great trouble. Like most other chapter heads, Dagail was of the upper class, wearing a black and burgundy dress with a matching pair of gold-trimmed shoes. This particular chapter head, however, was an old friend of Myrddin's, and a particular individual that Myrddin had noticed I would get along with rather well... voices in her head or no.

I wasn't able to speak, however - I was cold, out of breath from running so much, beginning to have a runny nose, and damn it, if I was coming down with chills and a fever (meaning that I _had_ caught a cold), _someone_ was gonna pay. Most likely Kalthar, wherever the "reformed" Necromancer was. All I could do was nod a greeting towards Dagail before I was finally able to find my voice.

"Kieran Herne, seeking wisdom or words, whichever really helps in the long run, and reporting for artifact retrieval, milady." I looked up at her at this point, trying to warm myself up as I gave a slightly sheepish grin. "I'm not late, am I?"

A smile crossed the Bosmer woman's face. "No, child, you've arrived not a moment too soon...both for lunch and to begin the task for the words you seek."

Slightly rushed footsteps from the far door to my left caught our attention as a Nord woman with blonde hair pulled back into a bun, warm brown eyes, and dressed in a set of mage's robes with a pair of thick cowhide shoes. She appeared to be about her mid- to late-thirties. "Dagail, lunch is about..." She quickly caught sight of me in my soaking cloak and hood, to which I gave a sheepish wave despite shivering like a leaf in the wind. "...Who in the...?"

The chapter head smiled. "We have a new associate, Agata."

* * *

_"Words are...difficult. They come and go. The voices, though - so loud, they are, they drown out the words. Without my amulet, my stone to lock the voices away, the words will never come and stay. You have already expressed you are willing to lift up your hands to help another, to help me find the words."_

_I nodded. While the rest of the Guild Hall was eating lunch, Dagail had specifically taken me aside to give me my recommendation task. A smile crossed Dagail's lips. "Speak with Agata, child. She will see the path, and set you on it. I must rest."_

Spoken with Agata, I had. And with Kalthar. And Kalthar was _not_ an individual I particularly wanted to speak with again.

"Well, well. Word is finally spreading, is it?" inquired the pale-looking Nord, not even bothering to look up from his copy of _A Less Rude Song._ "They won't be able to keep up this facade much longer."

The bitterness in his voice was borderline palpable. I raised an eyebrow. "So you know about the stone?"

He nodded, turning towards me now. "Yeah, I know all about it. I overheard Agata and Dagail talking. And you know what? I'm _glad_ it's gone!" He was getting heated up now, beginning to rant. "Why should we be forced to work under someone who's only kept sane by a magical trinket? Haven't we sacrificed enough already? She shouldn't even _be_ here anymore! Hell, the only reason why her father even fit in anywhere is because he kept a low profile. And look what it got him! Years of service to the Empire, and not even a tombstone over his head!" He scoffed. "At least he was able to maintain the _illusion_ of sanity..."

I raised an eyebrow, silently inquisitive as to what brought this on. Kalthar sighed, closing his book. "I know. I get way too fired up over this. It just annoys me that _she's_ in charge of the guild hall when she's clearly not fit. That's all."

This seemed a bit suspicious, really. I simply nodded in response before taking my leave. Agata would know something more.

* * *

"So Kalthar overheard us, did he? That explains why he's been so cranky lately..." Agata noted when I explained to her what Kalthar had said. Suspicion, however, now crossed her face. "But we never said anything about Dagail's father. How would he know anything about _that?_"

I raised an eyebrow. "Is there some sort of connection between Dagail's father and the Seer's Stone?"

Agata shook her head. "If there is... I don't know about it. But if there is, you'll have to ask Dagail yourself. It might jog her memory. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on Kalthar."

My response was a nod, to which I quickly returned to where Dagail currently sat reading a copy of _The Life of Uriel Septim VII_ near the door leading outside. She seemed shaky, I noticed, as if she hadn't eaten much at all. She looked up at me as I approached, slightly worried.

"You seek more from me, child?" she asked. I wasn't even able to reply. "It is as I have seen." She closed her book, making sure to bookmark her current page. "I know what you would ask. You would bring light to that which is in darkness, bring silence to the voices so loud. I know where you must go." Her eyes closed. "Blood ran blue and dragons flew high. Under broken towers and broken bodies it now lies, waiting to be found." Her eyes opened again as she lifted her gaze back to me. "What was my sire's must be mine if you are to have the words you seek. You must go and find his stone."

My lips thinned. "Fort Blueblood." She nodded. I gave a silent sigh before nodding. "I'll have your father's stone back to you as quickly as possible."

"Be cautious, child," Dagail warned as I turned away, heading for the door. "There is another who seeks that stone... and there are those who seek you out to end your life. Tread lightly."

Again, I nodded in acknowledgement of Dagail's warning before passing through the doorway and into the rainy streets of Leyawiin outside.

* * *

Fort Blueblood was a bit southeast of Leyawiin, close to the border of Black Marsh, and almost directly north of a one Deepscorn Hollow. The entire fort was in ruins, at least from the ground up, but inside was another matter. I knew the place was filled with Marauders, but there wasn't any other way to help Dagail. I knew that a certain other individual was likely to learn that I was here and would rush to stop me, as well. I would have to make this quick, then.

I withdrew my bow and knocked an arrow, sneaking over to the doors leading inside.

This was going to go as quickly as I could possibly allow it.

The Fort, fortunately, was small. As soon as I had felled the marauder at the intersection directly in front of me, I had turned left, felling the one at the end of the branch, and then continued on. Had I gone right, I would have found a doorway leading down to the Halls, but unreachable due to a gate.

Fortunately, the marauders were as stupid as I remembered them. Those that didn't die at the first strike were quickly felled by all manner of destruction spells, and even then, their numbers were already few. I figured they were a newly-assembled group. I continued towards the northern end of the fort's first floor, and then descended into the halls as quickly as quietly as possible.

The Battlemage and the archer that I met almost immediately inside were my primary problem. I had to use some fancy footwork to dodge both arrows and dagger-swipes, not to mention had to switch from bow to blade. Since I wasn't using Wraithguard, I wasn't able to use Sunder or Keening, causing me to resort to my elven dagger instead. I simply blasted the archer with a fireball soon after.

The final three marauders I didn't even bother using stealth on, simply entering with a barrage of lightning and cold. None of 'em expected me, and none of them were even alive about two or three minutes later. I continued on towards the final section of the Halls, where the coffin of Dagail's father, Manduin, was located. The two imps I found inside were quickly killed by well-placed frost spells.

Manduin's coffin was on the far side of the chamber, made of dark stone and wood, it seemed. I cautiously opened it and withdrew the stone from inside, whispering my apologies for having to defile the tomb before standing and turning back towards the way out. I heard the sound of a set of doors closing and something being locked almost immediately after.

Cue Kalthar running down the stairs, looking nervous.

My eyes narrowed as the dark-haired, pale-skinned Nord spoke. "Look, j-just stop right there, alright?" I raised an eyebrow. Did he _really_ think he was going to get away with this? Shaking away any and all nervousness, he continued, "I can't let you leave with that amulet. I need it, right now."

I placed both hands on my hips at this point. "And let all that work go to waste? Why should I?"

Clearly, he didn't expect such a response. "I took the other one, and that should've been enough! I shouldn't have to go through all of this, just to get rid of her!" Cue me rolling my eyes and then suddenly cutting Kalthar off by withdrawing my staff, pointing the tip of it to his neck. _Now_ I was just annoyed.

"Before you start spouting another rant, I'm going to ask you, just this once, to _hold your tongue and listen._" I growled. "You raise your hand against me, and you will find yourself killed faster than you'd expect. Did you _not_ see the corpses behind you? Did you _not_ see the magicka that some of them died by? Now think for a moment: the corpses are fresh. I'm still standing. You try anything stupid and any and all 'work', as you call it, you have completed with be entirely for naught. It will _still_ be for naught anyway, because _you,_ Kalthar, are in serious trouble, and if you value that pathetic excuse you call a life of yours, you will _remain silent_ and you will _remain absolutely __still__._"

He didn't listen. "It's not like I was going to even keep it forever! I was going to give it back to her, once I'd gotten what I wanted. That's not so wrong, is it? Once she helped me advance out of that place, and stepped down, then she could have it back! Why did you have to get in the way? Why are you trying to _ruin everything?_"

I found myself blasted backwards by a fireball, causing me to stumble a bit. Kalthar mumbled something under his breath, and then everything went to hell.

The very familiar smell of rotting flesh hit my nostrils, and I heard the ever familiar groan of the walking dead. I paled.

A very high-pitched and loud _scream_ suddenly echoed through the halls of Fort Blueblood as my vision suddenly went black.

* * *

_Time - 7:20 PM  
Location: Leyawiin Mages Guild Hall_

By the time I returned to the guild hall, I was a muddy, bloody, soaking wet _mess._ Kalthar was now dead in the middle of Fort Blueblood. If anyone came to investigate and found his body, it would be a miracle to even recognize him, something told me. He was the one who made the idiotic mistake of summoning a zombie, and so he paid the price. Manduin's amulet remained in my possession, and I had left Fort Blueblood quietly, mostly on autopilot. My actual conscious mind didn't come back until I was halfway to Leyawiin.

I stepped into the Guild Hall, closing the door behind me before I turned to Dagail, currently being attended to by Agata. She must've been in the middle of another vision, but unable to focus on it. I rushed forward, catching Agata's attention, as well as Dagail's. I was surprised that the old Bosmer woman was able to even speak.

"Nothing has changed, child," she explained. "The voices still cry out, and I am unable to hear."

"Then here," I answered, holding out Manduin's amulet. "This should silence them."

Agata's eyes widened in shock, and Dagail smiled wearily, taking the amulet into her hand. "Found it, have you? Silenced the hands that betrayed and took what was mine?" I nodded, letting her take the amulet. With Agata helping her keep steady, the master trainer of Mysticism was able to put the amulet on. For a few moments, there was silence. Dagail finally sighed in relief before standing straight. The clarity in her eyes seemed to indicate that the voices she had been hearing were now locked away, and was now able to actually continue with her duties.

She smiled at me. "Thank you, child, for helping me. With the voices quieted for now, the words you seek have come to me. You shall have my... recommendation." Her expression now became one of concern, however. "Though I must warn you, I have seen things in your future - things that may be and things that _will_ be. It will be up to you to decide the fate of many. Life and death are strange things, easily manipulated, and _both_ will be altered by your hands."

The younger Nord now looked between me and Dagail in confusion. "Dagail... are you certain?"

Dagail nodded. "Quite. Can you not feel it, Agata, the storm of magicka that surrounds her? She is Myrrdin's heir... and the Starborn whose power will decide the fate of the Empire."

Once again, I felt the color drain from my face. Agata's eyes widened. "Master-Wizard Myrrdin's _heir?_" She turned to me. "Is this true?"

I nodded, speaking quietly. "If she refers to my inheritance of Frostcrag Spire, then yes. It's true. I planned on restoring Frostcrag to her former glory once I was able to enter the University. Master-Wizard Myrddin was like my grandfather and taught me much of what I know of magicka control, which has always been my primary problem when it comes to magic."

"Child..." I turned back towards Dagail at this point. "If I may see your hand, please." I blinked, reluctantly holding out my right hand, which she took into hers. Dagail was silent for a few moments before speaking.

"I see the City in the Hand...and the Hand in the Stars," she explained. Another moment of silence. "The Tower guards the Gate...but the Gate holds the Key. The King is the Key...and the Hand guards the King." She looked back up at me. "And a Prophecy shall be both made and broken."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Shortest chapter yet. I'm so sorry, but it's been one HELL of a block. I'll likely come back to these last three and flesh 'em out a little bit more so that way they aren't so BLOODY SHORT.

...But trust me, you'll like the next chapter.

_- Kestrel Harper_


End file.
